


The Shots You Take

by bag_of_catZY (catZY)



Series: #hockeylife (The Tales of NHL!Bitty) [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: BAMF!Bitty, M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Schooners!Bitty, and there's already an equally long sequel planned, conversation as a solution, it is an actual epic that spans years, nhl!Bitty, oh my god what have i gotten myself into, the outline is already twelve pages long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22686802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catZY/pseuds/bag_of_catZY
Summary: The Great One once said “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.”Coming out by kissing your Stanley Cup champion boyfriend on center ice has unintended consequences, one of which is that scouts start paying attention to a little liberal arts school in Massachusetts not previously known for hockey greatness. And once they start looking, they see number 15, a speedy first line right winger with the C on his sweater—soft hands, not selfish about scoring goals…And the rest is, as they say, history.(Or, a story about the shots you take)
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle & Original Character(s), Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Series: #hockeylife (The Tales of NHL!Bitty) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641643
Comments: 100
Kudos: 186





	1. Keep Your Options Open

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for the Check, Please! fandom. I read everything that had come out at the time in one sitting in June 2019, so I'm pretty late to the party. It filled a void that the MCU had left in me after Endgame. In the interests of full disclosure, this story is a slow burn from established Bitty/Jack to a V with Bitty/Jack & Kent/Jack to a full equilateral triangle. For the readers who dislike Parse and may now be wary about reading this story, I hope you'll give it a chance anyway. I'd like to think my version of Kent is an interesting and dynamic character, though ultimately this is Bitty's story. Since Bitty becomes a Schooner, he is geographically very far away from Jack (and to a lesser degree, Kent), so the relationship stuff is on the periphery of the main story line (which is about how Bitty navigates being the first out player drafted to the NHL) for a significant portion of the story. Anyways, enjoy reading and drop a comment! (Feel free to point out typos or grammatical errors. Looking for a beta if anyone is interested!)

It started out with reporters for the social column and sleazier tabloid writers, all out for a quick quote and a picture of the elusive blond boy Jack Zimmermann kissed at center ice at Game 7 of the Stanley Cup finals. It was a big deal: the first out player in the NHL. And with such good optics, it’d make for a real heartwarming story of love and triumph.

But after judicious interference from the rest of the hockey team and juicier stories popping up elsewhere, interest in Bitty waned. Well, at least interest in him as an accessory to the Jack Zimmermann story waned. Interest from a different quarter perked up as Bitty’s last season of hockey got well underway. 

When Bitty started noticing the scouts in the stands—well-versed at spotting them from Jack’s final year at Samwell—he assumed they were there for Chowder or Whiskey. He tried talking up all of his boys, of course, but he knew those two had the strongest inclination and means to go pro.

It wasn’t until Jack came to one of his home games, and Bitty caught him getting friendly with the scouts that—

“What?!” Bitty didn’t mean to be shrill, but he was genuinely shocked.

Jack looked bemused. “Euh?”

“What do you mean they’re here for me?”

“Well, you’re right, they’re looking at Chowder and Whiskey, too. They’ll probably be invited to prospect camps this summer, too—”

“Why do you keep saying, ‘too’? I’m not a prospect. I’m nobody. I’m not pro material, Jack! You know this!”

Jack shook his head. “No, I know no such thing. You’re the fastest player on the ice, hands down. You’ve got soft hands, your spinorama is a thing of beauty. You read a change in play like it’s nothing. And off ice, you’re a great room guy. You get everyone having fun together and you listen to their problems. The boys all love you. They voted to give you the C unanimously.” Jack wrapped his big, warm hands around Bitty’s shoulders and gave him an encouraging shake. “Bittle. Bits. You’re good. Like really good. Good enough to be in the NHL.”

Bitty’s voice cracked, weak against the overwhelming faith Jack had in him, “You’re crazy, Jack, I love you, but you’re crazy. You’re blinded by love.”

Jack smiled and dropped a sweet kiss on Bitty’s lips. “It’s true, I am crazy in love with you.” Bitty narrowed his eyes at the Beyonce reference, but Jack continued blithely on. “But this is hockey, and you know I wouldn’t lie to you about hockey. Look, I’m not saying you’re a first overall pick, even if you weren’t too old for the entry draft, but we both know how much that doesn’t matter in the end. Yeah, maybe you’ll spend a few seasons in the AHL for development, but there’s no shame in that. The pay would actually probably be similar to that of an entry level office job. Just think about it, okay? You don’t even know what you want to do after graduation, so might as well keep your options open, right?”

So, yeah, Bitty kept his options open. But he didn’t really _believe_. He kept on not believing through his mess of a thesis and winning the Frozen Four, right up until—

“We’d like to see you in Seattle.”

Bitty shook hands with the man in front of him in a numb daze. Hopefully, his Southern manners had taken over and he’d smiled at all the right times and said all the right words.

That night when Bitty called Jack and got all the incoherent screaming out of the way, Jack hummed thoughtfully. “You know, their new C, Kittredge, he’s a good guy. I met him this past All-Stars. He plays a strong offensive game as a defenseman. He’s leading the league right now in goals among the D, a real contender for the Norris. And, euh, his older brother’s married to a man, he’s always been vocally supportive of the queer community and gay rights, and he’s the Schooners’ You Can Play rep.”

Bitty listened carefully to what Jack was saying. He’d never entirely forgotten his fear of homophobia—you didn’t forget those kinds of old childhood lessons—but it’d dropped to the back of his mind in the face of overwhelming support from the Haus and Samwell in general, and of course, the Falconers. He’d been out and playing hockey for a few years now and nothing terrible had happened to him, or at least nothing he couldn’t shake off after a day or two. He’d forgotten—or maybe, hadn’t been thinking too hard about it—that not all NHL teams were like Jack’s. That if he joined one, he could be shunned in the locker room, targeted for harder checks on the ice, ripped to shreds by media and fans alike.

But maybe he’d join a team like the Falconers and find another Samwell. Maybe there was a teammate like Shitty, a coach like Hall, an AGM like George, a captain like Marty just waiting for Bitty to take a chance. The NHL, in many ways, was a much bigger step than Samwell, but in some ways, it was easier to take the risk. He’d gone to college in the North, far away from everything he knew, without friends or family to rely on, wanting so badly to stop hiding so much of himself but unsure how to stop after so long. Now, he had Jack and the rest of SMH, he’d stopped hiding, and he still had his parents on the other side. If the NHL didn’t work out, he’d still have what he had now, and what he had now was pretty awesome.

Bitty smiled. “Well, their prospect camp is pretty early, so if they don’t want me, I’ll still have plenty of time to spend with you and do some job hunting before preseason starts.”

Jack said confidently, “They’ll want you. They’ve got depth in D right now, but they’ve got holes in their forward lines. They just barely missed out on the wildcard spot and they’re not going to get to pick high in the draft. And…”

Bitty let Jack’s familiar French Canadian accent wash over him as he listed stats about the Schooners and all the ways Bitty would be an asset to the team.

He was going to Seattle in July. In the meantime, he had to graduate and cheer Jack on in the playoffs.

  
  
  
  


Bitty was practically vibrating with nerves. He’d left Jack at the airport in Providence just a day ago, but it felt like half a lifetime. Jack, of course, was still melancholy about the Falconers’ Cup run not being deep enough, but he’d been mostly nursed back to an even keel through judicious application of Bitty’s pie and couch snuggles. But Bitty— 

Bitty was going to shake out of his body. He alternated between highs and lows like an ECG reading. One second he was convinced he was going to get on the ice and forget how to play, and everyone would laugh him off as a fraud. The next second he was just so _excited_ to play again, even though the Frozen Four had only been a few months ago.

He checked his phone again to see how much longer for his Uber to get to his hotel and saw a new message from Jack.

_You can play, Bits. [yellow heart]_

Bitty smiled. Jack using an actual emoji instead of <3—now that was real love.

He wasn’t the first one in the locker room despite getting there a full hour earlier than mandatory report time. The other guys glanced up when he came in and he gave them his best smile. Only one guy smiled back, so Bitty headed towards him.

He stuck out a hand. “Eric. But everyone calls me Bitty. Or, um, Bits.”

The other player shook his hand and said with a light accent, “Nikita.” He looked Bitty up and down. “Bitty, huh?”

Bitty stuck his hands on his hips. “Now, look here, you’re thinking it has to do with my size, but it’s because my last name is Bittle.”

“Nothing at all to do with your size?” Nikita teased. He let it go and asked, “Position?”

“Winger. You?”

“Center.” Nikita grinned. “Maybe you can be on my line.”

“Well, we’ll have to see what the coaches say.” Bitty turned away to start changing into his gear, also conveniently hiding a pleased smile. First friend! And on the first day, no less.

The first day almost killed him. Bitty met so many people, he was sure his head was going to spin right off. But then, they finally, _finally_ got on the ice, and it was the first deep breath Bitty took since he’d left Providence behind. They got through a few warm up drills before they were ushered off the ice and into the training room for preliminary fitness tests. Bitty was about ready to collapse after the cycle test, but that was only the beginning. The coaches ran them through their paces on the ice, too, until Bitty felt like he’d been bag-skated for _days_.

Bitty bonelessly sank onto his bed at the end of the day with barely enough energy to whine at Jack. His wonderful boyfriend just chuckled and told him it’d only get harder. Bitty groaned in despair when he realized he was too tired for even the most cursory of phone sex, and if this was only the tip of the iceberg, would his libido ever come back? Jack hid his amusement poorly, but he whispered sweet nothings at Bitty until he slipped into sleep, so that was alright.

Even though it hardly got easier, somehow Bitty’s body got used to the relentless cycle of eating, skating, off-ice training, sleeping—Rinse. Repeat. By the end of the week, Bitty was no longer fighting to keep from face planting into dinner. Some of the younger boys were practically bushy-eyed.

Georgie turned curious eyes on Bitty. “So, what is Jack Zimmermann like?”

Bitty had been preparing himself for questions like this all week. So far no one had been too invasive, so Bitty decided to take Georgie at face value. “As a teammate? Captain? Boyfriend?”

Georgie stalled out a bit at all the options. “Uhh, all of the above?”

Robbie elbowed him with an eyebrow waggle. “Why do you need to know what Zimmermann is like as a boyfriend?”

Georgie flushed red. He stammered wordlessly.

Bitty took pity on him. “Jack’s a great center. Skating on a line with him definitely made my game better. And I’d like to think the reverse is true, too,” Bitty added modestly. “As a captain...well, as the boys liked to say, he worked harder than God and he expected everyone to try to meet him at his level.” Bitty’s mouth curled ruefully as he thought of all the endless early morning checking practices. “It was good though. He was a good captain.” Bitty smiled widely. “And as a boyfriend, he’s very sweet.”

Georgie seemed mostly recovered. “Oh, that sounds so...normal?”

Bitty hid a smile. “I mean, Jack’s a pretty normal guy? He has his quirks, of course, but that just makes him Jack.”

Robbie asked, “But, like, when you’re with him, do you ever just think I’m dating Jack Fucking Zimmermann?”

Bitty laughed at that. “No, not in the way you mean. He’s an amazing man, and sometimes I just wonder at the fact that he chose me. But I didn’t actually know who he was when I first met him. Lord, it was so embarrassing when I asked the boys who Bad Bob was. The whole room just froze. I thought they were about to chuck me out on my ass.”

Georgie and Robbie goggled at him.

Bitty pointed at them. “Yes, exactly like that.”

Robbie asked excitedly, “Wait, does that mean you’ve met Bad Bob?”

Bitty nodded, albeit a bit cautiously with the way the two boys looked like they were about to jump him.

Thankfully, right then, Nikita joined them with a tray piled high with food. “Why are you looking at Bitty like that?”

Robbie blurted, “Bad Bob” at the same time Georgie said, “Jack Zimmermann.”

Nikita blinked. Then, he shook his head and muttered, “Canadians.”

Robbie protested, “But it’s Bad Bob! Surely even in Soviet Russia they know Bad Bob.”

Nikita rolled his eyes. “Yes, we know Bad Bob. But he’s old.”

Georgie declared, “Well, Jack’s not old!”

Nikita rolled his eyes even harder. Bitty was impressed he didn’t strain something. “He’s ok.”

Bitty half-wanted to defend his boyfriend, but honestly, watching Georgie and Robbie splutter in outrage was more amusing.

“Just ok?!” Georgie was incensed. “If he’s just ok, who’s good then?”

“Hmm, like playing right now? Well, on the Falconers, there’s Alexei Mashkov.”

After some good-natured ribbing about Russian loyalty, Robbie and Georgie left to go play chel. They invited Bitty and Nikita, but Bitty wasn’t much for video games and Nikita complained, _haven’t you had enough hockey?_ They, naturally, chorused back that there was never enough hockey.

Into the sudden silence, Bitty ventured, “So, Tater, huh? Or, well, Mashkov.”

Nikita brightened. “Yes, and his father, Valeri Mashkov was so great, too! And his mother, Anastasia Lebedev, she medalled twice at the Olympics, you know.”

“You follow figure skating?”

“Of course!”

And then they were off discussing best programs and pulling up videos on YouTube to prove their point.

  
  
  
  


Bitty jumped into Jack’s waiting embrace. Something he hadn’t previously realized was wound up tight inside of him loosened. He smiled down at his boyfriend. He was so in love he felt warmth spread like hot fudge from head to toe. A part of him felt like he could stay here forever, safe in Jack’s steady arms and warm blue gaze 

Bitty said, a little breathlessly, “I missed you.”

A brilliant smile stretched across Jack’s face like the first rays of sunshine in the morning. He whispered like a confession, “Me, too. I want to kiss you.”

Bitty didn’t want to wait any longer. If Jack didn’t care about any eyes or cameras that might be turned their way, Bitty didn’t care either. That was one of the good things about coming out via kiss at center ice—all PDA after that was less public, and therefore of less interest to paps.

Bitty lost himself for a little while in the kiss. Everytime they kissed, it only got better, like there were still new things to learn about each other, some more fine tweaking they could do.

When Bitty finally broke the kiss because air was still a thing, he dropped back down to his feet. Jack could probably continue to hold him for much longer, but they should at least make some pass at propriety.

“How were Alicia and Bob? How was Montreal?”

Jack smiled. “I already told you about them.”

“Yeah, but did you tell me everything? We only had an hour each night and I was halfway to sleep through a lot of it.”

“Well, after you told me about what Perfilyev said, and I told Maman and Papa, now, whenever Maman is over our bullshit, she reminds Papa that he’s old and me that I’m just ok.”

Bitty giggled. “Wait til I tell Nikita.” Jack pretended to pout. “Oh, there, there, honey, I think you’re more than just ok.” When Jack didn’t let up on his pouting, Bitty smiled indulgently. “You know I think you’re wonderful. You think some pie would soothe your ego?”

There was a sly little twinkle in Jack’s eye. “What about two pies? One of your famous maple crusted apple pies. _Et une tarte au sucre_?”

“Two whole pies! Who are you and what have you done with Jack ‘Eat More Protein’ Zimmermann?”

“Hmm…” Jack was mock thoughtful. “I guess you could make a tourtiere. Though it’s not the holidays, so maybe a different kind of meat pie?”

Bitty pretended to be scandalized. “What has gotten into you?”

Jack leaned in for another kiss and whispered mischievously, “Well, I know what hasn’t gotten into me. At least, not lately.” Here, he raised one of his perfect brows.

Bitty blushed once he caught Jack’s meaning. He swatted at Jack’s hip. “Come on, let’s go home, so I can get started on all those pies. And maybe if you’re good, there might be some extra filling.” He didn’t put any kind of emphasis on his last word, but he didn’t have to, Jack was a bright boy.

Bitty wasn’t as good with his eyebrows as Jack, but he was great at looking angelic. He added in a few wide-eyed innocent blinks for good measure and was rewarded by the darkening gleam in Jack’s eyes.

True to his word, Bitty got started on the pie dough as soon as he dropped his bags off by the door. Jack huffed and carried them to their bedroom. Bitty was just about to set the dough in the fridge to chill by the time Jack came wandering back out.

Bitty gently hipchecked him when he got close enough and asked, “What were you doing that took you so long?”

Jack shrugged and waited for Bitty’s hands to be free before pulling him close for a snuggle. “Just unpacking for you. Figured I’d start a load of laundry.”

Bitty leaned up to peck Jack on the mouth. “You’re such a sweetheart. Thanks, hon.”

“Well, I had stuff I wanted to wash anyway,” Jack mumbled, but chased after more kisses.

Bitty’s lips were tingly by the time he pulled back and said, “So, I was checking what we had in the fridge earlier. What do you say to rosemary chicken on cauliflower rice? And maybe a pomegranate kale salad? And then I can finish up the pies and pop them in the oven before we eat.”

“Sounds delicious. Want me to do the salad?”

“Yes, please. With the—”

“—raspberry wine vinaigrette.”

Bitty decided that deserved another kiss. Thankfully, for the sake of their dinner, working together in the kitchen had become enough of a familiar routine that they didn’t get too sidetracked.

In an hour, they were sitting down to a fragrant, refreshing (and nutrition plan approved) meal. And both pies were in the oven. Jack opened a bottle of fruity rosé to celebrate Bitty’s homecoming and invitation to rookie training camp next month. _Next step in the process, doing great, Bits._

They sat kitty corner to each other, so their legs got tangled up together. Bitty was flush with wine and just the sheer, wonderful simplicity of being close to Jack. Judging by the smiling glances Jack kept casting his way, Jack was similarly affected. 

Conversation was light, mostly about what they were going to do tomorrow and next week. But anticipation bubbled just under the surface. That sweet tension stretched through them polishing off the last of the wine while they cleaned up and waited for the pies to cool. When Bitty deemed the pies ready to eat, Jack insisted on cutting a slice of each and putting them both on one plate to share.

Jack herded Bitty and the pie slices to the couch with all the single-minded focus of a border collie. Once he sat down and had Bitty arranged in his lap to his satisfaction, he gave Bitty an expectant look and opened his mouth.

Bitty got a good forkful of apple pie and delicately delivered it to Jack’s waiting mouth. He giggled. “This wasn’t quite the filling I anticipated doing.”

Jack moaned around his mouthful, swallowed, and replied smartly, “That’s second dessert.”

If it weren’t for pie being sacred, Bitty would have rushed through first dessert. As it was, they just ramped each other up with sugared kisses and long, meaningful looks between bites.

When the plate was finally scraped clean, and Bitty had very deliberately and carefully placed it on the coffee table, they met each other in a fierce kiss like the thought of any kind of space between was too painful to bear. Bitty loved Jack like this, sweet from his pie and still hungry for something more.

Next thing Bitty was aware of, he was laying Jack down on their bed. Bitty took a minute just to let himself _look_. Jack was beautiful no matter what he was doing or wearing, but like this—nude and reclined against the pillows, waiting for Bitty—he was art, the kind of muse Michaelangelo could only dream of.

Bitty pulled off his boxer briefs and climbed up onto Jack. He groaned at the sublime pleasure of all that skin on his and surged upwards for another ocean-deep kiss. Bitty lost the plot a little kissing Jack. Every time he pulled back, he’d see Jack’s kiss swollen lips and have to dive right back in.

One of Jack’s hands swept down Bitty’s back in long strokes before wandering around to wedge between them and give Bitty’s cock an evaluating squeeze.

Jack said, his voice a full octave lower than normal, “I missed you. I missed this.”

Bitty—and Bitty’s aching dick—was suddenly, excruciatingly aware that he hadn’t had sex in person in two weeks. He asked hoarsely, “How much did you miss me? Show me.”

Jack gently pushed Bitty onto his back and pressed slow, wet kisses to Bitty’s collarbones. He drifted down to lick at Bitty’s nipples. When he clamped down and sucked _hard_ , Bitty arched up with a gasp. The noise seemed to spur Jack on because he spent the next little while with his head happily buried in Bitty’s chest. Bitty writhed, desperate for some friction or _something, anything_ against his dick. Just when Bitty was on the verge of begging, Jack finally decided to have mercy and continued down Bitty’s abs without any further teasing.

Jack gave the base of Bitty’s cock a few greeting licks before swallowing Bitty down whole. Bitty tried to stifle his helpless moaning behind his fist, but Jack reached up to pull his arm back down. Bitty knew how much Jack liked to hear him, so even though it was embarrassing, he let his pleasure be vocalized. Bitty watched Jack’s head bob up and down for a bit before he had to tilt his head back and stare at the ceiling. His orgasm was waiting like a wave ready to crest at any moment, but no, he had to last. Jack probably wanted his dick for more than just sucking.

Bitty pushed at Jack’s head and let out a gasp of relief when Jack immediately slid off with a pop. He groaned at the irresistible sight of Jack lying between his thighs, one of Jack’s large hands wrapped loosely around his dick and a furrow of impatience on Jack’s brow. “You’re killing me, babe.”

Jack said, voice hoarse from dick sucking, “Well, _la petite mort_ hasn’t happened yet, so…” He gestured as if to say, _can I get on with it?_

“What do you want?”

Jack licked his swollen lips and glanced at Bitty’s dick in an obvious answer.

“Yes, okay, that. But anything else?”

Jack slid back up Bitty’s body in a move so smooth all Bitty could think was _skin_ before Jack’s mouth was at his ear. “I showered earlier, before I left to pick you up.”

Jack leaned back to check Bitty’s face. Bitty was more than a little dazed, but he hoped he effectively conveyed, _yes, I am picking up what you are laying down_. 

Bitty rolled out from under Jack’s arms and Jack dropped down to the mattress with a small _oof_. Bitty had to take another moment just to breathe. The long line of Jack from the back, with all its sweet dips and curves, could prick a dead man’s pulse, let alone Bitty’s. And _his ass_. Lord, as blasphemous as the thought might be, some days Bitty really thought Jack’s ass was the most perfect of God’s creations. So perfect and round and _juicy_ , like the real life embodiment of the peach emoji. Bitty was no poet, but Jack’s ass could move anyone to verse.

Bitty grabbed a pillow to shove under Jack’s hips. That just put Jack’s ass even more on display. Helplessly, as if a bee drawn to honey, Bitty leaned down just to nuzzle his face against that sweet swell. And then nuzzling led to petting. Jack made a noise of impatience. Bitty bit down on one lush cheek for Jack’s impertinence. Jack breathed in sharply in surprise. 

Bitty decided he’d made Jack wait long enough, so he parted Jack’s cheeks and licked one long stripe across his hole. Jack groaned lowly and humped his ass back up towards Bitty’s face, begging wordlessly for more.

Bitty didn’t bother to make Jack beg out loud. It’d been too long and he was more than a little impatient himself. He skipped the teasing and got filthy with it, wet and messy and perfect. Jack was just nonstop moaning, loud enough that there was a decent chance any neighbors at home could hear him. He squirmed between Bitty’s tongue and their soft cotton sheets, chasing shamelessly after his own pleasure.

When Bitty expanded his awareness from the all-consuming focus of eating Jack out, he realized Jack was softly chanting a litany of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me”. Bitty groaned at that and his hips involuntarily shoved against the mattress. Jack got louder at the vibration of Bitty’s groan.

Bitty pulled back and scraped his messy face against his own forearm. “You wanna get fucked, darling?”

Jack breathed out a _yessss_ against the pillows.

“Then pass me the lube, honey.”

Jack scrambled for their nightstand drawer and tossed back the lube when he finally found it. Bitty rolled the tube in his hands to warm it, popped the cap open, and squirted a dollop onto the small of Jack’s back. Since Jack was loose enough and wet enough not to need any warm up, Bitty just slicked up two fingers and pressed inside. He unerringly found that magic spot and rubbed gently. Jack tensed like he’d been struck by lightning before falling bonelessly back against the bed.

Two fingers were exchanged seamlessly for three. And then, Bitty stayed with that for a while just to torture the both of them until the anticipation was thicker than molasses.

Bitty finally relented when Jack pulled his face from the pillows and growled. “Fuck. Me.”

The slide in was like coming home. They groaned in unison at that feeling of sublime perfection. Bitty took a moment to breathe and get his bearings so that he didn’t shoot off immediately. And then he put his back into it and gave Jack what he wanted. It was hard work, but never had work been so satisfying.

Watching the motion of Jack’s back muscles and glutes moving under his sweat-slicked skin was pure porn, but better because it was real. After long practice, it only took a few thrusts for Bitty to find Jack’s sweet spot. He stayed there and added a twisting motion of his hips at the end of each thrust forwards like punctuation. It was one of Jack’s favorite of Bitty’s tricks, one that punched little _uh-uh-uh_ noises out of Jack’s mouth.

When Jack got close, Bitty dropped down to plaster himself against Jack’s sweaty back and reach underneath to furiously strip Jack’s dick. It took only _one-two-three_ undulations of his hips for Jack’s orgasm to break like a storm. The hot vice of Jack around him was almost too much. Bitty bit down _hard_ on the blade of Jack’s shoulders to keep all his enormous feelings contained even as he spilled inside Jack.

Once they were cleaned up and mostly back to breathing normally, Bitty cuddled up against Jack’s side and pressed a soft kiss to Jack’s chest.

“I love you.”

“Me, too. I love you so much, Bits.”

“What are we going to do?”

Jack pulled Bitty away from his chest so their eyes could meet. “What do you mean?”

Bitty looked away. He gave voice to the fear that had been brewing at the back of his mind while he was at prospect camp. “What if the Schooners actually want me? We’ve already spent two years mostly living apart, but at least I could drive to see you if I wanted to. If Seattle makes me an offer, we’ll be three thousand miles apart. And I won’t be able to skip a practice or a game like I could skip a lecture.” His voice broke, “I really thought after graduation we’d be together.”

Jack gave him a warm little shake before drawing Bitty’s chin up to give him a kiss. “We’ll still be together even if you go to Seattle.” When Bitty opened his mouth to protest, Jack said, “Yeah, I know it’s not the same. But we’ll be together in the way that really matters. Listen, if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to go to training camp. And if they make you an offer, you don’t have to sign. I just want you to be happy. If you want to open a bakery here in Providence, I’ll buy you a bakery. It’ll be the best bakery in the world. Or if you want to become a YouTube star—didn’t you tell me people can make money doing that? And look, money’s not the issue here. Whatever you want, I want you to do that.”

Bitty sniffled and curled up mostly on top of Jack because side-by-side just wasn’t close enough anymore. “Why are you so perfect?”

Jack dropped a kiss to the top of his head. “Not perfect. But you make me want to try.”

Bitty propped his head up with his chin on Jack’s sternum to give Jack a watery side-eye. “Don’t lie to me, you’d try to be perfect even if you weren’t dating me. Who has the ‘Be Better’ poster?”

Jack laughed. “Okay, you got me. I was just trying to be sweet.”

Bitty stretched up to kiss Jack. “You are very sweet.”

Jack smiled. “You sure that’s not all the pie you keep feeding me?”

Bitty rolled his eyes. _This boy_.

Jack’s smile softened into something more serious. “I really mean it. Whatever you want.”

And that was the incredible thing about Jack’s love—it made Bitty feel like the whole world was at his fingertips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell with me about Check, Please on Tumblr! I’m @cat-zy


	2. Drop Your Mitts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty meets some new teammates. Plays some hockey. And then...well, refer to Chapter Title.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so this is my first stab at writing actual hockey playing. I only started watching hockey because of Check, Please! So if any more experienced fans of the game spot errors, feel free to point them out! Also feel free to let me know if the hockey description or the dialogue is dry (overdone) in any parts.

Hoo boy, if Bitty thought prospect camp was going to kill him...training camp was somehow a hundred times worse.

Bitty flopped down onto his bed with a heartfelt groan. Nikita let out a weak chuckle, but he was similarly prostrate so he really didn’t have a leg to stand on.

Bitty muttered into the bedspread, “Why did I think this was a good idea? I willingly signed up for this.”

Nikita rolled over onto his back with only some minor struggling. “Well, it’ll all be worth it once we make the show, yes?”

Bitty rolled over, too, with several more groans. “Jack assures me it only continues to get worse. Once rookie training camp is done, there’s regular training camp, then preseason, then regular season, then postseason if we’re lucky, and then off season conditioning to start all this all over again. You know, a nine-to-five is starting to look less dreadful by the minute.”

Nikita laughed. “We are the lucky few who have college degrees, so you know, a nine-to-five is always an option.”

“Ugh, I’m not that desperate yet. Besides, you have an Engineering degree. You can totally get a good paying job anytime you want. What the hell am I supposed to do with a degree in American Studies?”

“Get another degree?” Nikita suggested with a smirk, knowing full well Bitty’s feelings about school.

Bitty gave him an eloquent middle finger.

“But really, it’ll be worth it once we’re playing real games. Nobody likes conditioning.”

Bitty said uncharitably, “Jack does.”

Nikita rolled his eyes. “That’s because your boyfriend is crazy. Not everyone is like Jack Zimmermann.”

“Amen to that.”

After a lingering moment of companionable silence, Bitty suggested, “Should we watch something? My body is too tired to do anything, but my mind is not tired enough to sleep.”

“Sure, but I’m not looking for the remote.”

Bitty silently cursed Nikita and did a crunch to get upright. He moaned and clutched his middle, “Oh, my abs.”

“What abs?” Nikita chirped.

Bitty narrowed his eyes in affront. “I’ll have you know I’ve had abs since Katya was my coach, and they’ve only gotten better every year!”

“Ah, of course, you’re proportional.” Nikita’s eyes twinkled.

Bitty grabbed the remote and brandished it threateningly. “I have the power now, don’t test me.”

Nikita was unperturbed. “We have the same taste in TV.” He said in a deadpan tone of voice, “Oh no, we’re going to watch The Great British Bake Off, the horror.”

Bitty huffed and leaned back against the pillows, determined to get back at Nikita somehow, but too tired to be witty right now. He turned the TV on and flicked through the channels. Sadly, The Great British Bake Off was not an option, but there were movies on Pay Per View.

“You ever see The Man from U.N.C.L.E.? It was the first movie Jack and I watched in theaters after we started dating. We actually both liked it, which is kind of a minor miracle.”

“You sure you two didn’t like it just because it was your first date?”

“It wasn’t our first date! And no, it was definitely good.”

Nikita pushed himself up against the pillows and shrugged. “I know it’s about the Cold War and the Soviet agent is played by an American, so no, I didn’t watch it.”

Bitty double checked that all the other movie options were terrible in comparison, and then pulled out his trump card. “Tater liked it.”

Nikita narrowed his eyes in suspicion. After a long pause, he finally said, “Fine. But I reserve the right to demand a change if it’s terrible. And I get to make fun of the fake Russian.”

Bitty conceded these fair points and started the movie.

Afterwards, Nikita complained, “Why does this stereotype of Russians persist? Russian men are emotional, comradely, and romantic! This Peril, ah, Kuryakin, is much more like American. Which makes sense because he is played by an American!”

Bitty smiled at the complaining. Despite it, Nikita had not interrupted the film to demand a change, so Bitty knew he had at least liked it enough to watch the whole thing. “You think you would make a better Peril?”

“Well,” Nikita hedged, “I can’t act. But at least my Russian and my English speaking accent would be real.”

“You know, you don’t actually have much of an accent. Not like Tater. Not that I think all Russians have to be the same,” Bitty hastily added.

“Mashkov and I come from very different backgrounds. His father works as a coach for a big hockey team in a small town. I grew up in Moscow and my parents work for an international bank, so they both speak English. And they thought I might go to school in the West, so they put me in schools with good English language programs. And as you know, I did an exchange program in the U.S. for two years of high school. And then went to UMich. Whereas Mashkov went straight to RSL, and then NHL.”

Bitty nodded. “I know it’s not the same, but Shitty told me Jack’s English wasn’t the best when he first started at Samwell because he grew up in Montreal and then went to the Q, so he always had people to speak French with before college.”

Nikita huffed. “I still can’t believe you have a friend named Shitty. Nicknames here are terrible.”

Bitty laughed. “My mom still calls him Mr. Crappy even though I told her his last name is Knight. But I mean, your nickname isn’t so bad. It’s just Nicky. Or, well, I guess Georgie is trying to get Perf to catch on.”

Nikita scrunched up his nose. “Nicky sounds so bleh. And don’t get me started on Perf.”

“What did your teammates at UMich call you?”

Nikita made a wry face. “Nicky. So I’m used to it.”

“Hmm, well, do you have other nicknames? Tater tried to teach me about Russian nicknames but it got real confusing real quick.” Bitty grinned ruefully.

Nikita nodded understandingly. “There are different levels depending on the other person’s relationship to you. Are they your boss? Your family? Your friend? Your girlfriend? And also it depends on age, too. But Nikita is...Nikita is a little bit like Eric. There are nicknames, but they are not formed the same way the others are, so they’re not as common.”

Bitty frowned in determination. “I’ll find you a good nickname.”

“Oh, joy.” But Bitty caught the pleased smile Nikita didn’t try very hard to hide.

  
  
  
  


Tomorrow, the rest of the team would start to filter in. Today, Bitty was still here. He hadn’t been cut, and with each day that he stayed at camp, the more and more he started to believe he really could be an NHL player. Nikita—and Georgie and Robbie—were still here, too, which was just the icing on top of a fantastic cake.

The last few days, during scrimmages, Bitty had been consistently put on Nikita’s line, so they’d been able to perfect their passing plays. By now, they could read each other without words and pretty much guarantee their passes would connect. But it wasn’t all rosy. 

Coach was on Bitty to improve his backchecking and the frequency at which he took shots on goal. Bitty knew that one of his most standout skills was to augment a good scorer so that he’d become a great scorer, but Coach was right, he couldn’t rely on being put on a line with someone who scored a lot. He was fast enough to get a breakaway and he was agile enough to split the D, but he had trouble winning in a one-on-one with the goalie. And even if he had another teammate to pass to, he’d be a better player if he was an equal scoring threat so the goalie didn’t know who to focus on.

When he’d repeated these concerns to Jack during their nightly Skype calls, Jack reassured Bitty that he was a fast learner and that even though these skills took time to develop, if Bitty put in the work, past experience showed he’d see gains.

But those worries were far from Bitty’s mind right now.

His team, blue, had just turned over the puck to white. 

Bitty flew down the ice towards the defensive zone and scooped up the puck in the brief moment it was unprotected before the other player could react. He turned on a dime and hoofed it back up the ice. He caught sight of Nikita behind and to the left of him, somehow clear of any white jerseys around him, and passed the puck backwards without a second glance. 

Bitty spun _ once-twice _ to get around the two opposing players bearing down on him and held his stick steady when he heard Nikita’s call. The puck landed perfectly on his tape right before he crossed the blue line. He drew the D-men to him, made sure they committed, and then fired the puck straight through the closing gap between them. The pass bounced a little, but Nikita stayed in possession and skated around the back of the net to buy time.

Bitty called for the pass to disguise the open passing lane from Nikita to Lovey. The opposing D didn’t notice the pass until it had already connected. Bitty skated past as the D-men shifted their focus to the other winger. Lovey sauced a pass to Bitty. It was a little high, but Bitty smacked it down and immediately sent it back to Nikita.

Nikita skated back around the other way behind the net, allowing Bitty to get into position. They passed back and forth in front of the net at lightning speed while the D were still behind them. And then one last pass, and Nikita snapped it in five-hole before the goalie could even react.

As it was only a scrimmage, they didn’t celly too hard. Nikita skated over to give Bitty’s helmet a few rough pats. He was kind enough to lower his head so Bitty could return the favor. After a few more congratulatory back pats were exchanged with the rest of the blue team, Coach called everybody over.

There was a tall man with an afro fade and gray eyes standing beside Coach. It took Bitty an embarrassingly long moment to recognize him as Treyvon Kittredge, the Schooner’s captain. To be fair, he was used to seeing pictures of Kittredge in all his gear or in a sharp suit at postgame pressers, not in a tee shirt and jeans.

Kittredge met his gaze with a smile. Bitty smiled back automatically, but then quickly ducked his head at being caught staring. He turned his focus back on Coach, who was calling out good plays and areas that needed improvement. His remarks were quick and short, so before long, he dismissed the blue team and set the white team to more drills.

Bitty and Nikita were at the back of the pack headed off the ice. Up ahead, the first few were already being given warm greetings and  _ good job _ ’s. And then it was Nikita and Bitty’s turn.  _ You have nothing to be nervous about _ , Bitty reminded himself,  _ you survived meeting Jack _ .

Bitty took a deep breath, pulled his glove off, and offered his hand. He beamed his brightest smile at Kittredge and said, “Hi, it’s great to meet you, I’m—”

“Bittle.” He seemed amused when he shook Bitty’s hand.  _ That was good, right _ ? “Good backcheck there. You and Perfilyev, that was a beautiful play. You practice that together before?” Kittredge had a very nice, very white smile, which in the NHL, meant it was probably surgically reconstructed. 

Bitty was too stunned by the one-two punch of the smile and the compliment to properly form words. 

Thankfully, Nikita was there for an assist. “Pieces of it, yes. Cycling in front of the net, definitely.”

“Good. Always keep the other team guessing. Practice the plays you have and try to come up with new ones before they can acclimate.”

Bitty and Nikita chorused an affirmative. 

Kittredge clapped them on their backs and sent them on their way with a cheery, “See you on the ice tomorrow.”

  
  
  
  


“Hey, you’re Zimmermann’s boy.”

Bitty looked up from lacing his skates to see a red-headed giant towering over him. The man had a cheerful grin with a strange edge, like he was just daring you to punch him. And it was the expression that finally clued Bitty in. This was Ian MacCarthy, the man who’d accidentally broken Tater’s leg in the 2016 Cup Finals, and incidentally, the man who Jack had fought for the offense.

Bitty wasn’t sure how to take the greeting, or how to respond. Was MacCarthy trying to start shit? Or was he just making an idle observation? It was honestly hard to tell with that  _ fight me _ smile of his.

Bitty said cautiously, “Yes, that’s me. Eric Bittle. Um, Bitty.”

MacCarthy’s grin widened, which was hair-raising to see. “Bitty, that’s cute, I like it. So, I hear from Snowflake that your baking is to die for. Do you take requests? What am I saying, of course you do, you’re ours now!”

Bitty blinked at MacCarthy, just trying to take everything in. First,  _ Snowflake? _ Second,  _ What?? _

A stick came out from the right and lightly whapped MacCarthy in the torso. MacCarthy bent over with an exaggerated  _ oof _ . 

“Mac, leave the rookie alone. Some days, I can’t believe you’ve got an A on your sweater.”

Bitty looked over to see a very blond man looking at Mac in fond disapproval. He turned to Bitty and his face softened into a wry smile. “Ignore him. He only gets worse if you feed him sugar. Give him enough and he starts to make Gritty look positively normal.”

Mac gave #91 a face wash and got a poke check for his efforts. “Fuck off, Izzy. That’s just blatant bigotry against redheads.” He turned to Bitty while still playfully tussling with his teammate and said loudly, “People always get suckered in because of the whole angelic blond Swedish thing, but do not trust this blue-eyed devil.”

“Don’t call me that,” Not-Izzy said. “You trying to chirp me or wheel me?”

Mac stopped trying to pull Not-Izzy’s sweater over his head and leaned back incredulously. “ _ Try _ ? There is no try, only do. You think I can’t do both?”

Not-Izzy straightened out his gear. He gestured at himself, “Well, if this goes to show anything, you suck at trying to get me out of my clothes.”

“Again with the ‘try’! Hells Bells, why do you hurt me like this?” Mac snagged Kittredge as he lumbered past in his skates. “It’s okay though, who needs you, when I’ve got Kitty? He’s all the man anybody needs.”

Kitty rolled with it. “Aww, did your crush hurt your feelings?” Mac made a sad attempt at doe eyes and nodded. “Were you pulling pigtails again?” Mac started to nod before he realized what Kitty had said and interjected with a sharp  _ hey! _

Kitty gave him an encouraging pat on the ass and pushed him towards Not-Izzy. “Go on, kiss and make up with Hells. Team unity is the foundation of putting points on the board. Or am I going to have to score all the goals, too?”

Several other Schooners were watching the byplay at this point and called out protests at this. “What are we, chopped liver?”

Kitty raised his brows. “Well, none of you are on the ice right now, are you? Get out there, put some pucks in the net, and prove me wrong.” When nobody moved fast enough, Kitty said, “Come on, hustle. Did you all forget how to put on your gear over the off season? Butch, your tape is fine, leave it.”

They hustled.

Practice was definitely livelier with the whole team on the ice. Bitty was pleased to note that he no longer felt hideously out of shape skating drill after drill. When the first scrimmage started, it was clear he still had plenty to learn, but he was skating on the same ice as real NHL players and he was keeping up. He hadn’t put any points up yet, but he was going to, he could feel it. He just needed an opportunity. There!

“Peril!”

Nikita sauced him the puck. Bitty drove it up the ice. The D bore down on him. There was no clear passing lane to Nikita. Where the hell was Bergie?

Wham!

Bitty felt all the air leave his lungs as he was crushed into the boards. He breathed through the pain and shoved back, but it was too late, Mac had already stolen the puck. Bitty took another deep breath to shake it off before chasing after Mac. Despite giving up a headstart, Bitty was good at picking up speed very quickly. 

With a few strides, he was breathing down Mac’s neck. He tried to poke the puck away, but he slid his stick out at the same time Mac turned to pass and ended up accidentally tripping him. Mac wobbled, but didn’t actually go down. It was still enough for him to lose possession. Butch darted in, stole the puck, and passed it back up the ice to Bergie.

Bitty was about to drop a quick apology for the accident, and then get back into the attacking zone, when he saw gloves fly. And then the  _ clang-rattle _ of a stick hitting ice. He turned around in shock to see Mac with his bare fists raised.

Bitty dropped.

  
  
  
  


“—didn’t even touch him! I swear, come on, Cap, you know I wouldn’t hit a teammate, especially not a rookie! I was just joking around. And he—he just fainted or something! Should we get medical?”

Bitty blinked up to see several concerned faces staring down at him.

Coach pushed everyone aside. “Give him some space, boys. Bittle, you with me?” At Bitty’s noise of assent, Coach continued, “Can you give me name, date, and location?”

Bitty mumbled the correct answers, face starting to heat as he realized what had happened.

“Okay, good, you didn’t hit your head. This ever happen to you before? You got a medical condition I don’t know about?”

Bitty shook his head. He was sure his face was cherry pie red. And even worse, he started to feel tears forming at the back of his eyes. All he could think was,  _ Lord, not this again _ .

Kitty crouched down and got an arm around Bitty to help him up. “Hey, Coach, why don’t I take him to get checked out?”

“Yeah, sure, go on. Everybody else, line up at center. Come on, move it, daylight’s wasting.”

Bitty followed Kitty off the ice with his head down. He couldn’t bear to see anybody’s reaction. Surely, by now it was clear that he was physically fine. And that whatever was wrong with him was a mental weakness.

Kitty led him to the locker room and gestured for him to sit down on the bench. He passed Bitty a bottle of gatorade. Bitty murmured a thanks, cracked the seal, and took a few sips. Kitty joined him on the bench but Bitty couldn’t look at him.

“So, you’re afraid to get hit, huh?”

Bitty’s head snapped up in startlement.

Kitty snorted. “Don’t look so surprised. You’re not the first I’ve seen. Well, nothing quite this extreme.” Bitty looked down in shame. “Hey, come on. Don’t wallow, you can fix this. You did it before.”

That made Bitty look up. “How did you—?”

Kitty smiled gently. “First out prospect. That made me pay attention.” His smile widened into something with a tinge of amazement. He shook his head in half-disbelief, “Times really are changing.” He met Bitty’s eyes and said solemnly, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Bitty cracked a smile, moved by Kitty’s sincerity.

Kitty lightened up considerably at the smile. “Anyways, I watched some of your old game tape. Not gonna lie, when I first found out you didn’t start playing hockey until you were fifteen, I thought to myself, no way were you pro material, this has to be some PR stunt.” It hurt to hear Bitty’s fears echoed in his captain’s words. “But then.  _ But then _ . I watched game tape from each of your seasons. And let me tell you, the kind of growth I saw, now that is something rare.”

Bitty cleared his throat and said, “Thank you.”

“Just telling the truth. Look, you went from a dozen spinoramas a game, avoiding checks like your life depended on it, to today, skating through a check from Mac. And I don’t have to tell you that Mac hits hard, even in practice.” He paused and asked, “Did NCAA hockey introduce you to checking?”

“Yeah,” Bitty laughed ruefully, “in high school, I was on a co-ed, no-contact team.”

Kitty whistled in awe. “Well, then it’s the same situation, so you gotta work the same process. How did you get over your fear of checking?”

“Oh, um, Jack woke me up for four am checking clinic every Sunday and kept shoving me into the boards until I got over it.”

Kitty burst out laughing. “And this man became your boyfriend?”

Bitty joined him in laughter. It was a little crazy to think about sometimes, the story of how they started. “Well, certainly not then! We hated each other for a few solid months. I didn’t realize I’d fallen in love until I was teaching him how to make pie for a class project. And he didn’t realize he’d fallen in love until his dad quoted Gretzky at him at graduation.”

Kitty was laughing so hard he was hooting. “Oh Lord. Bad Bob quoted Gretzky at him. Well, that’s a hockey love story if I’ve ever heard one. Oh geez, you’ve given me so much chirping material the next time we play the Falcs.”

Bitty shrugged. “The Falcs already chirp him for it, so he’s used to it by now.”

“Still.” Kitty shook his head. “Wayne Gretzky, love guru.”

That set them off again.

After a moment to settle down, Bitty ventured tentatively. “What did you mean by the same situation? Are you going to punch me in the face until I get over it?”

Kitty immediately denied with a shocked, “No!”

Bitty breathed out a sigh of relief.

“No way, that’s not how you learn. What I meant was that, well, I know what it’s like coming up through NCAA hockey. The penalties for fighting are so much more severe than in the NHL, or hell, even the major junior leagues. It isn’t worth it to fight in college hockey, so practically no one does it. It can be a pretty rough transition into pro leagues from that. So, fighting is new to you, just like checking once was. You just have to practice.”

Bitty couldn’t hide his skepticism. “And you’re going to teach me to fight?”

Treyvon Kittredge was a beast of a man. He had over nine inches and a hundred pounds on Bitty. He wouldn’t even have to throw a punch to lay Bitty out flat. He could literally just sit on Bitty. The techniques that worked for Kitty were surely not going to work for Bitty.

“Oh no,” Kitty’s smile was wicked and Bitty didn’t trust it one bit, “I’m going to take you to my teacher.”

  
  
  
  


On their next off day, Bitty found himself in a well-loved gym shaking hands with a curly-haired woman only a bit taller than him.

“Hello, my name’s Jasmine,” she said warmly. Her grip was firm and calloused.

Bitty looked between Jasmine and Kitty, following a thread he was barely aware of. Jasmine was olive-toned, whereas Kitty was more of a taupe. Her curls were chestnut brown ringlets, while Kitty’s were tighter and black. Her eyes were a cloudy blue-gray and Kitty’s were a clear gray. But there was something about the shape of their eyes, the contours of their faces, the way they smiled—

“Are you two siblings?” Bitty blurted out. And then he realized he was still holding Jasmine’s hand and quickly let go.

Jasmine’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, wow, people don’t usually guess that right off the bat. But yeah, Trey’s my baby brother.”

Kitty slung an arm around his sister. “And Jazz taught me everything I know about fighting.”

Jasmine scoffed through a smile, “Not that you ever fight, so who knows if you even remember how to.”

“Hey! I fought once, last season.”

“You call that a fight? Weren’t you nominated for the Lady Byng?”

“Well, you’re the one who told me not to start fights. And no one wants to start a fight with me.” Kitty added slyly, “It’s because they know you’ll beat them up in the parking lot after.”

Jasmine shoved him off. She said laughingly, “Didn’t you get big so I wouldn’t have to do that anymore?”

“Yeah, sure, because that’s how growing works,” he said dryly. With a brief clap of Bitty’s back, Kitty said, “Anyway, I’m out of here, I’ve got a captain meeting with Mac and Otts. I’ll leave Bitty in your capable hands.”

Jasmine shooed him off. “Oh, boo hoo, Mr. NHL captain too busy to spend time with his favorite sibling.”

When Kitty was gone, Bitty couldn’t help but ask, “Did you really beat up someone for Kitty—I mean, Trey—in a parking lot?”

Jasmine laughed. “Oh no, good Lord, can you imagine?” She paused and cocked her head. “Or, well, kinda. He’s talking about when we were really little kids. Kind of how I got into this whole professional MMA trainer thing. But that’s a bit of a story and we’ve got no time to waste.”

“I’d love to hear it. Please?” Bitty widened his eyes for full effect.

“Oh jeez, put those eyes away. Okay, so to give context, Trey and I have also got an older brother, Isaiah. The whole fighting thing started because, well, what’s a girl supposed to do when your older brother figures out he’s gay when he’s ten and announces it to the entire recess, and your younger brother is the shrimpiest kid that ever did live. Yeah, I know,” she said to Bitty’s disbelief, “it’s hard to believe, but before puberty, Trey was pretty much the smallest kid in his grade.”

“Wow, he got lucky. I kept hoping the same thing would happen to me, but, well.” He gestured to his own well-proportioned, but admittedly small-for-a-hockey-player body.

“Size matters, of course, but how you use your size matters even more. Anyway, I was plenty busy in elementary school beating off my brothers’ bullies left and right. Our parents put their foot down when I cracked two of my knuckles. Since they couldn’t get me to stop, they signed me up for karate classes in the hopes that if I actually knew what I was doing, I’d hurt myself less. And decades later, here we are.”

Bitty had a brief thought to wonder what it would have been like to have had a sister like Jasmine in high school. But no, one girl, no matter how tough, was no match against the entire football team. Still, it was nice to dream.

“Okay, so Trey tells me you’ve never fought before and fighting freaks you out.” Freaking him out was putting it mildly. “To be honest, that’s a pretty normal outlook. Unfortunately, hockey is not normal. But I’m here to help. You’re already used to training your body and your mind, so you’ve got a leg up on a lot of other beginners.”

Bitty tried not to squirm under Jasmine’s considering look.

“You probably can’t take as much punishment as guys with more body fat and muscle than you. And plenty of them are already used to the pain of having their teeth knocked out and their heads banged around a couple of times. So, we’ve got to focus on several things. First, how to move with a hit. Second, how to use your speed to hit first and hit hard before the other guy gets you. And third, and perhaps most important—this is a thing that I don’t see a lot of hockey players do—how to block. Fighters of all levels learn blocking very early on. But it’s a bit harder for hockey players because you’re usually using the arm you would use to block on just keeping a grip on the other guy’s jersey. So, looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

An eon later, Bitty fell to his ass for the millionth time and stayed down to catch his breath. He looked up to see Jasmine holding a water bottle out to him. He took it with a grateful nod and gulped down some sweet relief. He lifted his shirt to wipe the dripping sweat from his brow. Unfairly, Jasmine, on the other hand, looked like she’d barely broken a sweat.

“You know, it may not seem like it, but you are improving. You’re not dropping or freezing anymore.”

Bitty sighed despondently. “I’m not sure how much that has to do with me actually getting better. Look, I know, rationally, that you could probably kill me six ways from Sunday. But my fear isn’t rational. A good deal of it comes from my high school football team locking me in a janitor’s closet overnight. Big guys coming at me freak me out, as you say.”

Jasmine dropped into a crouch on the mat. “Well, even if what you say is true, it’s still progress. Once these moves become instinctive, I’ll get Trey to spar with you.”

Bitty shuddered at the thought of fighting his captain.

“Hey, baby steps. Don’t worry about that yet. It’s still early days. Right now, just focus on your form and how to read my moves. Come on, up you get, you’re almost done for the day.”

Bitty groaned and pulled himself up.

As he was leaving, he asked, “How much do I owe you for the private lesson?”

Jasmine waved him off. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Trey has got you covered.” When Bitty made to protest, Jasmine got serious and said, “It means a lot to him that you’ve gotten this far and he wants to see you succeed.”

“Oh. Because of your older brother?” That was the only reason Bitty could think of as to why Kitty seemed so unusually invested in him in particular.

“Sure, it’s partly because of Isaiah. But the much bigger part—listen, you and Jack, you made history with that kiss. But the thing about history is that it’s a story that’s always continuously being shaped. And that kiss could be a footnote, or it could be the start of a movement. Trey doesn’t want it to be a footnote. Neither do a lot of other people, myself included. If you make it to the show, it could be a sign that real change is coming.” And then she grinned. “But no pressure or anything.”

Right. No pressure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part gets more exciting! Some familiar faces. Some new friends. Shots of all kinds!


	3. Shots! Shots! Shots!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you name all the different kinds of shots taken in this chapter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a regular posting schedule - I'm not that organized unfortunately! - but my goal is to post at least 2 chapters (5000 words or more each chapter) per month. If I'm productive, it might end up being 3 like this first month, but no promises.
> 
> I updated tags to account for introducing Kent in this chapter.
> 
> Thanks to Julorean for helping me come up with some awesome names and nicknames for some of Bitty's teammates, which will be revealed in the future! And tbh, just being a great general sounding board and a second eye on my work.
> 
> Concrit, spell/grammar check welcome!

Jack yawned again and blinked sleepy eyes at Bitty through the screen.

Bitty laughed fondly at how sweet his boyfriend looked. “Past your bedtime, sweetheart?”

Jack tried to shake himself back into full alertness. “Sorry. It’s been a long day and it’s past eleven here. But Bits, I’m really happy for you. This is great! You made it!” The thought of Bitty’s contract managed to temporarily reenergize him.

Bitty hadn’t stopped grinning since he’d signed his ELC. He’d immediately messaged his parents, Jack, and the SMH group chat. Congratulations had been pouring in since. His mom had cried and his dad had been effusive with pride—well, effusive for Coach anyway. Jack had called him on Facetime as soon as he’d gotten done with his captainly duties.

But now Jack was five seconds from falling asleep on his laptop and Bitty really ought to let him go.

Bitty wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye. Instead, he said, “Well, we don’t know if I’ll play any games for the Schooners yet. I might get sent down.”

Jack shrugged. “Yes, but you’ve got a foot in the door. More than that really, you’re in the game now. So what if you spend time in the minors? That’s still good pro hockey. I’m just so happy for you. And so proud. I wish I could kiss you.”

“Yeah, me too. I love you, honey. I wish you were here so we could properly celebrate.” Before the mood could plunge down from wistful to truly sad, Bitty put some cheer in his voice and said, “So, November eighteenth! You’ll play us here.”

Jack smiled warmly. “Can’t wait to see you then.”

They traded a few more _love you_ ’s and blown kisses and sweet nothings before Bitty finally urged Jack off the line. Honestly, they’d cut it pretty close. There was a fifty-fifty chance that Jack was already dead to the world with his face smushed into his laptop. 

Bitty set his own laptop onto the bedside table and sighed deeply. No matter how long he talked to Jack, with three thousand miles between them, it never felt like enough. He missed Jack with a fierce ache—it felt like a bone deep bruise, how much he longed for Jack’s body against his, just to hold him.

Bitty shot a quick message off to Nikita, _said goodbye to Jack, you can come up now_. Nikita’s girlfriend had called not long after Jack had, so Nikita had taken his laptop down to the lobby to avoid clashing conversations. Nikita’s girlfriend, Marissa, was doing her PhD down at CalTech, so she was in the same timezone as them. Therefore, it was quite likely that their conversation was still going strong. Besides, Marissa gave the impression that PhD students never slept anyway.

He got back a heart followed by a rider on a horse.

Bitty contemplated putting earbuds in and watching something mindless on YouTube. But he thought being around Nikita while he was talking to his girlfriend would probably just make him miss Jack more. Of course, he didn’t have to sit silently in a corner. After all, Bitty had been around in the background for some of their previous video calls and Marissa always happily engaged him in the conversation if he seemed open to it. But Bitty didn’t want to third wheel their celebration—Nikita had signed a contract, too—so he should probably chill somewhere else for a while before bedtime.

He grabbed his wallet and shrugged on a jacket, and then headed out into the hall. A chorus of happy shouts drifted from a few doors down. Probably the other rookies celebrating. He took a step in their direction before shaking his head and turning back towards the elevators. He was in a weird mood. He didn’t want to be alone, but he didn’t want to party either.

Once outside, he picked a random direction and started walking. It was drizzling. Ugh, Seattle. Well, he had better get used to it if this was to be his new home. He didn’t know what he was looking for, so his brisk walk quickly turned into an aimless stroll.

His meandering attention was drawn by a wooden storefront with a warm glow coming from inside. He looked up and saw a sign that said, _Timber & Spice _. He peered through the windows and saw a mostly empty bar. It didn’t look anything like the bars he was used to, not a sports bar or a dive bar. It looked inviting, but Bitty waffled over going in. Wouldn’t it be weird to drink alone?

He made his decision when the bartender looked up from the bartop, saw him through the windows, and smiled at him. It was a nice smile.

Bitty walked straight in and sat himself at the bar like he knew what he was doing. He had to firmly remind himself that he was definitely over the age of twenty-one and had a real ID with him.

The bartender was cool enough to be intimidating, with her GQ-fashionable short hairstyle and her arms covered in detailed ink, but her friendly smile was disarming. “First things first, some ID please.”

Bitty managed to get his driver’s license out without undue fumbling. She inspected it consideringly and then held it up to a naked lightbulb. Bitty tried to look trustworthy and mature despite the fact that he really had nothing to worry about.

She passed it back to him and said, “We don’t get too many people from Massachusetts out here. In Seattle for school?”

“Oh, I just graduated. I’m out here for work, actually.”

“It’s the curse of the baby face. My girlfriend always gets carded, too. So, Eric, what can I get you?”

“Bitty.” At the bartender’s puzzled face, Bitty clarified. “Everyone calls me Bitty.”

“Cool. Bitty. I’m Val, by the way.”

“And to be honest, I have no idea what to order.” He chuckled ruefully. “I’m used to bad beer, shots, and tub juice.”

Val wrinkled her nose. She asked sympathetically, “College?”

“Yeah, hockey frat.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place for an education in spirits.” Val visibly brightened. “I love it when newbies come in here! Okay, I don’t want to overwhelm you, so let’s start with something easy. Any preference for spirit? Like gin, tequila, rum, or whiskey? Favorite flavor profile? Fruity, sour, creamy, or savory?”

Bitty blinked. And then blinked some more. “I like sweet things? And I have no idea about any spirits.”

“No worries, I’ve got you.”

Bitty watched in fascination as Val’s hands slipped between bottles and tools like a coordinated dance. She slammed one shaker tin over another and then flipped the whole contraption into her hand with a wink. After a few vigorous shakes, she cracked the seal and poured the drink through two strainers into a fancy stemmed glass. She finished it off with a dehydrated lime wheel.

She gently placed the glass on a coaster and slid it to Bitty. “Here’s your daiquiri. One of the classics. Just fresh lime, sugar, and rum.”

Bitty carefully lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. It was bright and sweet, yet he could still taste the rum. He was usually indifferent or grimacing through the taste of alcohol in a mixed drink, but this time, he actually liked it.

He grinned. “Wow, this is great! I’ve never had a drink this good before.”

Val grinned back, sharing in his joy of discovery. “Yeah, it’s incredible how much a difference fresh ingredients and balanced proportions can make. It’s kind of like baking. Or so my girlfriend tells me. She’s the one who bakes, I just watch her.”

“Your girlfriend’s a baker? I love baking, too!”

“Yeah, Kim loves it, but just as a hobby, you know. She’s actually a makeup artist for work.” After a pause, she asked, “Do you want to keep a tab open or close out?”

He handed his card over and said recklessly, “Why don’t we keep it open?”

Val took it and said, “Living dangerously on a Sunday, I like it.” While she started making another drink, she asked, “So, you said you’re in town for work. What do you do?”

“Oh, um, hockey.”

“You work for the Schooners? Or are you in sports journalism?”

Bitty fiddled with his glass. “I, uh, believe it or not, play for the Schooners. Well, I haven’t played a game for them yet, but they signed me, so here’s to hoping.” He hoped that didn’t come off sounding like a brag.

Instead of showing disbelief, Val’s eyes suddenly brightened like a lightbulb had turned on. “Oh, you’re Eric Bittle! The first out prospect. Well, player now, I guess. I knew the name on your card was familiar! Kim wouldn’t shut up about you the last few weeks.”

Bitty chuckled bashfully, not expecting to be recognized. “Your girlfriend’s a hockey fan, I take it?”

“Yeah, she’s been a Schooners fan for life, even when we were still living in California. She’s got the biggest hockey crush on your goalie—Virtanen, I think. I’m not a sports person myself. Or, well, at least, not a spectator sports person. But even I’ve picked up plenty just from her talking about it so much. But anyway, just wanted to say it’s awesome you’re repping the queer community.” She held out a fist for Bitty to bump. “Mad respect.”

“Thanks.” Bitty buried his blush by taking another sip of his drink.

Val set another drink in front of him, same glass and garnish. “This one’s a gimlet. Exact same ingredients and proportions, except it’s gin instead of rum. Just so you get to know a little bit more about spirits. And this one’s on the house.”

“Oh, thank you.” Bitty said, startled but pleased. “You really didn’t have to, but thank you very much.”

He took a sip of his new drink. It was cleaner and subtler, not as bright as the daiquiri.

Val raised an expectant brow and asked, “So, what do you think?”

Bitty pursed his lips as he thought about what to say, how to compare the two. “I like it. I always thought gin was kind of nasty, but this is good. I think I like the daiquiri better though. It’s brighter, if that makes sense.”

Val nodded. “No, totally. I’m more into gin and whiskey myself, but there’s really something special about lime and rum together. And the thing about gin and rum is that there aren’t really strict rules about how to make them, so there’s a lot of variety. Gin is all about the herbs, spices, fruits, and flowers you put into it. So if you don’t like one gin, you might very well like another.”

She set up a flight of different gins and rums for Bitty to taste. She laughed as he struggled over imprecise words to describe what he was tasting. While he enjoyed his drinks, she regaled him with tales of alcohol history. By the time he closed out, he was much cheered. He left Val a hefty tip, an autograph for her girlfriend, and a promise to be back.

All in all, it had been a great day.

  
  
  
  


“Come on, don’t hesitate! You’ve got speed, you need to use it.”

Bitty dropped his fists and backed away in his rollerblades. “I know, I know, I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Jasmine sighed and said patiently, “The whole point of sparring is to simulate the real thing.” 

“Yeah, I know, sorry.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry, it’s okay. We’ve just got to come at this from a different angle.” She paused, and then twisted around to scratch under her borrowed hockey pads. “This gear is the worst. I feel like the Michelin man.”

Bitty smiled wryly. “You get used to it.”

“Well, hopefully, I won’t have to.” She did a few stretches to resettle the pads. “Okay, so you’re doing great on your form and your moves. And you’ve learned to read the hits and roll with them, too. But you’ve got to get better about striking first and not letting up. The whole goal of hockey fights, for you at least, is to get the other guy down on the ice, so the refs will call it. That means you don’t want to exchange blow for blow because most other guys can probably outlast you.”

Bitty blew out a breath. “Yeah, everything you say makes sense, but just, when I’m looking into your eyes, I don’t want to hurt you. Like, I’m not mad at you? So my brain doesn’t want me to punch you hard enough to hurt. I dunno. I know it’s not real, but the hurting, that would be real.”

Jasmine nodded. “I get it. When I first started fighting, before I started training, I was fuelled by rage. If you asked me then to fight Trey, even just to teach him, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. So, what makes you angry? Is it when someone’s hurting you?”

Honestly, Bitty was mostly scared and sad at the thought of someone hurting him. He shrugged. Maybe he could muster up some anger over his old bullies?

Jasmine continued, “Or, is it when someone’s hurting someone you love? Your family? Friends? Jack?”

He thought of someone hurting his mom. Or Chowder. Or the Waffles. Or Jack. He thought of an accidentally overheard conversation, the gutted, hollowed out look on Jack’s face afterwards—Jack speechless and trembling while Kent Parson fired final parting shots.

So, yeah, maybe he had some rage in him after all.

Jasmine said encouragingly, “Okay, whatever, whoever you’re thinking of, hold on to that. Let’s go.”

She closed in on Bitty in her skates.

Bitty pictured Parson’s face and swung.

  
  
  
  


Bitty held onto his stick with a deathgrip while reminding himself that yes, breathing was still a thing he needed to do.

Bergie tapped his shin with the blade of his stick. “Hey, it’s just preseason, you’re going to be fine.”

Bitty nodded tersely and took a deep breath. He released it in a whoosh. It was true, it was just the preseason. It didn’t count for anything. But Bitty had to look good. He was fighting for an opening roster spot.

Nikita knocked his elbow into Bitty’s side. “Two points for each of us, okay? You assist on my goal, I assist on yours?”

Bitty managed a smile. “Yeah, sounds good.”

And then the announcer was calling for the Seattle Schooners. Everyone thundered down the tunnel and out onto the ice. Once his skates hit ice, some of his tension released. He could do this. He was going to do this. Bitty cut a few wide loops across the smooth, fresh expanse and breathed in the comforting smell of artificially frozen ice before skating for the bench.

The announcer called for the Las Vegas Aces and players in white jerseys jetted onto the ice amidst boos from the crowd. Bitty caught sight of #90 out of the corner of his eye and deliberately turned away. He’d seen flashes of Parson throughout warmups, but thankfully they’d never gotten within speaking distance. Not that they’d have anything to say to each other.

As it was preseason and Coach Larkin wanted to see how the rookies would mesh with the established roster, Bitty and Nikita were starting with Bergie. He heard loud cheers when his name was announced and looked up to see a few rainbow flags waving wildly in the stands. He looked back down to hide his smile.

When he lined up at center ice, Parson got into position next to him. Bitty kept his eyes on Nikita. He was so focused on not focusing on Parson that he almost startled when Parson spoke. 

Parson’s tone was falsely friendly and conversational as he said, “You’d think if Jack really loved you, he’d have gotten the Falcs to make you an offer. Or does he not think you’re good enough to be on his team?”

Bitty gritted his teeth and ignored the asshole.

The puck dropped. Troy won the faceoff and slid the puck to one of their D-men, who passed it to Parson. Bitty gave chase. He tried to lift the blade of Parson’s stick to steal the puck, but Parson knocked his stick aside, passed it through his legs, and was gone with a mean little chuckle as if to say, _nice try, kid_. 

It only got worse from there.

“Wow, it’s like looking at me, but the lite version.”

A slew-foot penalty that wasn’t called.

“When do you think Jack’s going to realize you’re not as good as the original?”

A check into the boards.

“Could you have signed with a team farther away from Providence? Wonder why he doesn’t care if you’re not around.”

Bitty just couldn’t get possession of the puck, and when he got it, he couldn’t keep it. Because of Kent. Motherfucking. Parson.

Bitty slammed down onto the bench, spitting mad.

Bergie nudged him. “I don’t know what Parson is saying to you, but you’ve got to tune him out. That’s his thing, nasty chirps. You can’t let it get to you, or he’ll win.”

Bitty huffed in irritation.

“Kind of surprised he’s targeting you so much though. He doesn’t usually go so hard after rookies.”

Bitty shrugged. He had no intention of explaining that they kind of had history. Or, well, he had history with Parson via Jack. Yeah, not going there.

On Bitty’s next shift, Parson spat a string of what must have been Russian at Nikita, who reared back in surprise and lost the faceoff. Again. Bitty ground his teeth in frustration and skated after the puck.

“Hey, we play the Falcs soon, I was thinking I could meet up with him after,” Parson said under his breath while they battled against the boards for the puck. It squirted free and Parson sauced it to the Aces’ other winger. As he turned to skate away, he said, “He probably misses the way I used to fuck him.”

Okay. That was it.

Bitty dropped his stick and shed his gloves in one smooth motion. He grabbed Parson by the jersey and socked him in the face with _one-two_ rapid punches. It must have been surprise or unstable footing—or maybe Bitty had hit harder than he thought—but Parson fell back onto his butt with the force of the blows. 

Bitty stood over him, chest heaving with anger and shock, and then regret quickly started to creep in. Especially when Parson just blinked up at him with blood on his face—and the whistle blew—and then the ref was leading Bitty to the penalty box.

A major. Fuck. Bitty sat and stewed in his guilt, and watched in horror as the Aces got a goal in. When he was finally released, he skated back to the bench in defeat and kept his head down while Larkin laid into him with bitten off words laden with disappointment. He couldn’t look at his teammates.

Bergie said in an undertone, “Hey, good hit. But it’s not worth it to fight Parson. He never fights back, only draws penalties.”

Bitty nodded and tried his best to get his head back in the game. He and Nikita did manage to get an apple a piece for Bergie’s goal late in the third. But it was too late. Final score: 4-2.

After Larkin gave a few brief remarks and told them to be ready for video review tomorrow, the mood in the room quickly picked up. A loss for the first preseason game was by no means ideal, but it didn’t impact their standings, so the guys were cheerfully chirping each other and making plans to go out.

Even while everybody else was already moving onto the next thing, Bitty couldn’t shake his own personal black cloud hanging over his head.

Nikita jostled him. “Hey, don’t worry about it, we’ll get goals next time. Besides, Parson has a punchable face, I don’t blame you for taking a swing.”

Bitty covered his face with his hands. “I shouldn’t have let him get to me.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe. But you’ll know better next time.”

If there was a next time. If Larkin didn’t just scratch him from games until he was sent down.

But no, he couldn’t think like that. He had to keep his head up. He could fix this.

“Want to watch a movie? Or get drinks with some of the guys?”

Bitty shook his head. “There’s something I have to do first. You go on ahead without me.”

Nikita gave him a searching look before saying, “Alright, well, text me when you’re done and I’ll let you know where I am.”

Bitty gave him an affirmative nod, and then pulled off the rest of his gear. He rushed through showering and getting dressed, so that too soon he found himself trying his best to loiter inconspicuously outside the visiting locker room. A few Aces players and staff passed him by without a second glance. They probably didn’t recognize him without his name and number stitched to his back. 

Just when he looked down to check his phone for new messages, someone finally spoke to him. “What are you doing here? Wanted to punch Parse some more?”

He looked up. And up. Oh jeez, it was Troy glaring down at him.

Bitty straightened up and said in his most earnest voice, “No, not at all! I came because I, um, wanted to apologize to Parse. I shouldn’t have punched him just because I got mad.”

“To be fair, I kind of deserved it. People have definitely tried to fight me for less.”

Bitty spun around to see Parson behind him, blond curls wet and wild and mouth curled into a wry smirk. Bitty tried not to gape at him. For some reason, all his words had deserted him.

After a moment of awkward silence, Parson waved Troy onwards. “Go on, I’ve got this. I doubt Bittle’s going to punch me again.”

Troy cast a gimlet eye on Bitty, huffed at Parson, and then left them alone to stare at each other.

Bitty blurted out, “I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”

Parson gingerly rubbed at his nose and cheek. “Yeah, you hit hard, man. Wasn’t expecting that. But no stitches or broken bones, so it’s all good.” At Bitty’s guilty expression, Parson continued, “No, really. I’ve had way worse. And it’s kind of on me, I crossed a line. I don’t usually chirp about kids or WAGs. But, well, it’s Jack.”

Bitty said softly, “Yeah, it’s Jack. We should probably talk, huh?”

Parson scrubbed at his eyes. “Aw, fuck, are we going to have a heart-to-heart?”

Bitty shrugged. “You said it, not me.” After a pause, “I know a bar not too far away. It won’t be too busy on a Wednesday.”

Parson blew out a breath. “Sure, fuck it, why not? Drinks sound great right now.”

And that was how they found a seat at the bar at _Timber & Spice._ Parson looked around, faintly impressed.

“Okay, this was not what I pictured when you said you knew a bar.”

“Lucky find, I guess,” Bitty said absently while trying to catch Val’s eye.

Kim sometimes came in during Val’s shifts to keep her company. Val must have seen Bitty come in out of the corner of her eye because she put her conversation with Kim on hold and came over.

“Hey, Bitty.” And then she turned to Parson and said, “So, my girlfriend tells me you’re a super famous hockey player.”

Over in the corner, clearly having heard Val, Kim buried her face in her arm.

Parson smiled charmingly. “Not super famous, but yeah, you could say I’m known in hockey circles.”

Bitty snorted. Parson raised an eyebrow at him, but Bitty just shook his head. When Kim raised her head to peek at them, Parson gave her a little wave. Kim flushed but didn’t go back into hiding. Parson gestured her over to properly join them.

“You a hockey fan?”

“Yes, a lifelong Schooners fan!” Kim immediately bit her lip in embarrassment over her excited outburst.

Parson skated past any awkwardness by asking mock woefully, “So no love to spare for an Ace?”

Kim pursed her lips to hide her smile. “Nope, sorry, definitely no love for a division rival.”

Parson pretended to sigh sadly before he smiled and said, “It’s okay, I get it. My brother is the biggest Islanders fan. He’s the one who got me into hockey, actually. But yeah, he gets so stressed out when we play the Islanders.”

“If your brother’s the one who got you into hockey, does that mean you’re secretly an Islanders fan?”

“Shh, don’t expose me.” Parson laughed. “But nah, you put on a new jersey and you gotta rep those colors wholeheartedly.”

Bitty watched Parson interact with Kim and was reminded of his first impression of Parson, before all the horrible things he’d overhead had irreparably changed his opinion. Before Parson had gone upstairs, he’d been extremely personable, happy to play drinking games and take selfies with strangers. Before he’d gone upstairs, Bitty had _liked_ him. He’d been more than a little dazzled by this celebrity hockey player being so nice and friendly to him. It had been such a slap in the face to realize his first impression had been wrong. But now...Bitty wasn’t so sure anymore.

Val asked, “Hey, you know what you want to drink?”

“We’re not going to sit at the bar, so maybe save anything you want to educate me about for next time?”

“Got it, you want to take the private booth at the end? We normally save it for large parties, so you’ll have to move if one comes in, but you can take it for now.”

“Thanks.” Bitty turned to Parson. “You know what you want?”

Parson shrugged. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Val said cheerfully, “Okay, two margaritas my way coming right up.”

Parson slid a card over before Bitty could do more than thank her.

Bitty opened his mouth to protest, but Parson forestalled him. “Come on, I’m not going to make a rookie on an ELC pay.” When Bitty continued to look stubborn, Parson sighed with exasperation. “Fine, if we get another round, you can pay.”

Soon Bitty and Parson found their way to the circular booth in the back corner with their drinks—margaritas served up in fancy glasses Bitty had learned were called coupes instead of the typical style of rocks and a salt rim.

Parson sipped his drink and made an impressed face. “Wow, I didn’t even know there were levels to margaritas other than how expensive the tequila was, but damn.”

“Yeah, Val’s awesome.”

They spent the next few moments delicately sipping at their drinks and neatly avoiding eye contact. 

Bitty sighed and bit the bullet, “So...Jack.”

“Yeah, so Jack.” Parson made a wry face. “You probably think I’m still hung up on him, right?”

Bitty tried to find a diplomatic way to say _yes, absolutely_.

Parson read his face and laughed ruefully. “Well, I’m not.” At Bitty’s obvious skepticism, he insisted, “No, really.” After a pause, “Yeah, okay, I totally was for a good long while after the draft. They say you never really get over your first love. I mean, we weren’t really anything other than best friends who were fucking, but at the time, I thought we had the potential to be more. And then...the draft.” His face became drawn and shadowed. His voice was raw as he said, “When I found him, I thought he was dead. You have no idea what that’s like and I hope you never do.”

Bitty shied away from imagining it, but he couldn’t help himself. Jack, paler than even his usual winter hue, lips blue, limbs lifeless. The image dropped like a stone in his gut and the weight remained uneasy even when Bitty deliberately tried to think of puppies and pie.

“He wouldn’t see me in the hospital. He wouldn’t take my calls. Or reply to my messages. Not even to tell me himself that he hated me and never wanted to see me again. So, I deluded myself into thinking that he just needed to pull his shit together and get into the NHL and we’d pick up where we left off.” Parson shook his head at himself and his mouth slashed into a small, ugly smile tight with bitterness. “But then I brought him the Cup, thinking it’d motivate him or that he’d be happy for me. Boy was I wrong. It broke my heart to realize that Jack didn’t love me anymore, not even as a friend. If he ever had.”

Bitty didn’t think he would ever find himself sympathizing with someone who had been so cruel to the man he loved. He loved Jack so much it hurt sometimes, but he wasn’t so blinded by love that he’d forgotten the Jack he’d first met. Bitty tried to imagine if after loving Jack and being loved by him for years, Jack returned to treating him like that. It hurt to even think about. And even worse was the thought of knowing Jack was hurting and struggling, of being unable to help. Of being deliberately and completely shut out. Of knowing thoroughly that he wasn’t needed or wanted. Bitty would like to think he wouldn’t lash out, but he knew he couldn’t say, not when he’d never experienced a hurt that deep before.

Parson’s voice dragged Bitty out of his horrible musings. “Well, it was certainly a wakeup call.” His lips quirked in the ghost of a rueful smile. “I cried into a lot of ice cream. But I got over it. Eventually. And then I met someone.”

Bitty couldn’t help the way his eyebrows flew up at that.

Parson nodded. “Yeah, I was convinced I’d never find love again, even though Swoops kept telling me that I was being dramatic. But incredibly enough, Harry and I, we were together for almost two years. He broke up with me not too long before your, um, what is it called?” When Bitty supplied “EpiKegster”, Parson flashed a grateful smile and said, “Yes, that. He said he couldn’t handle dating a hockey player long term, that I was gone too often and that my job always took precedence over everything else. Which, fair. But I really thought he could be the one, you know? So I was in a bad place. Like, was I gonna be forever alone?” 

Parson rolled his eyes at himself. “I couldn’t make it work with Harry, and I couldn’t make it work with Jack...But then, I knew Jack was meeting with NHL teams, looking to get signed. And so I got this crazy idea in my head that if I wanted to be with someone, it had to be another hockey player. They’d understand what it was like, and if they were on my team, they’d always be with me. So if I got Jack to sign with the Aces, I wouldn’t have to be alone. Stupid, huh?”

Parson looked up at Bitty as if awaiting judgment. Bitty, suffused with a sudden understanding and fellow feeling for the man—enemy? rival? fun house reflection?—sitting across from him, reached over and covered Parson’s hand with his own. Parson startled but didn’t snatch his hand back. 

Bitty tightened his grip on Parson for emphasis and said fiercely, “That’s not stupid at all.”

Parson leaned his head back and blinked rapidly. After a second to gather himself, he smiled crookedly, “Wow, Bittle, you’re so easy. One little sob story and you forgot you’re supposed to hate me.”

Bitty pinched him for his irreverence and ignored his wounded little _ow_. “I think you can call me Bitty after all that.”

Parson’s smile was genuine as he said, “Kent, then. Or Parse.” 

“Okay, Kent,” Bitty tried it out. Then, he channeled his inner Shitty and said, “Thank you for being brave enough to share something so deeply personal. Especially when you didn’t even know if you’d have a sympathetic ear. ”

Kent shrugged off the sincerity.

“No, I mean it. I don’t think I could have done it in your place.” Bitty took a deep breath and decided to give a little bit of Kent’s vulnerability back. “You know, we almost broke up not long after we got together? Jack was in Providence and I was in Samwell, and our schedules weren’t lining up right for regular video calls, let alone visits. And I wanted to tell everyone about Jack, about us, but I couldn’t because Jack wasn’t out. And I was afraid someone was going to find out and ruin Jack’s career, his whole life, and it’d be my fault! It kept building, the anxiety and frustration and loneliness, until I just couldn’t see how we could keep going.”

Kent leaned in, interested. “And then?”

Bitty cleared his throat of the heavy emotions his memories were bringing back. “Well, the fool showed up at the Haus at the crack of dawn, straight from the airport after a roadie, and told me I wasn’t alone because we were a team.”

Kent laughed and said with amusement, “Good to know Jack’s still using hockey as a metaphor for life.”

“Ha! If you think that’s something,” and so Bitty told Kent the graduation kiss story.

Kent cracked up so hard he ended up clutching his sides as if to hold himself together.

When Kent finally calmed down, he wiped tears of mirth out of his eyes and said, “Oh, man, that’s great, that’s really something. Well, if it means anything, I’m rooting for you. I mean, some warning would have been nice, but it’s a good thing you’re doing, makes it easier for the kids coming up in the future.”

“Thanks.” A pause. “Do you, uh, I—”

“What is it?”

“Do you think I can tell Jack about some of what we talked about?”

Kent shrugged and said, “Tell him whatever you want. I wouldn’t expect you to keep secrets for me from your boyfriend. And well, maybe it’d put some things to rest. I wanted to apologize as soon as I walked out to my car that night. And I started about a dozen texts. But in the end, I decided not to say anything. Figured I’d forced my way into his life enough. There’s too much complicated history between us. I thought it was better to leave all that in the past.” He shrugged again and quirked his lips. “Swoops tells me that’s a sign of maturity.

Bitty blurted out a question that he hadn’t even known he had wanted the answer to, “If I wasn’t—if Jack wasn’t with me, do you think you’d have ever gotten back together?” He immediately flushed in mortification.

Kent’s eyes widened in surprise. Then, he chuckled and said, “In the wise words of TSwifty, ‘we are never ever ever getting back together’.”

  
  
  


Bitty was woken up early the next morning by the insistent ringing of his phone. He rubbed at his bleary eyes with one hand and held his blurry phone screen up close to his face with the other. _Jack._

Bitty immediately woke the rest of the way up at that. They hadn’t scheduled a call for five in the goddamn morning. Terrible scenarios raced through his mind. He stabbed his finger at the green call button, heart in his throat.

“—itty?”

“Yeah, Jack, what’s up?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to call so early but I woke up this morning to a million messages from the guys about your game last night.” Bitty pulled his phone away from his ear and grimaced at the number of unread messages from the SMH group chat. “What happened? Are you okay?”

It took a while for Bitty’s morning-addled brain to even understand what Jack was referring to. “Oh. Um. I’m fine.”

“What did Parse—Parson say to you?”

“He was just baiting me about you. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

Jack cursed. “That fucking bastard.”

Bitty found himself in the strange position of defending Kent to Jack. “No, it was okay. We, uh, talked. After.”

“You talked?!”

And so Bitty told Jack everything about last night, from the game onwards. Afterwards, there was a thoughtful silence on the other end of the line. Bitty knew better than to rush Jack when he was sorting through his emotions.

Jack’s voice started rough and halting, “I’m glad he wasn’t, euh, stuck on me all this time. When he showed up that night, acting like nothing had changed between us, it scared me. I thought he wanted to turn back time to the way we used to be. That was a really bad time for me. Really, really bad.”

Bitty’s eyes widened as he listened. _Was he—?_ Jack was so private, especially about his old hurts. To be trusted to hold some of that pain—Bitty burned with a fierce protectiveness. 

Jack drew in a ragged breath and the rest poured out in a torrent. “He never hurt me on purpose, but being with him, it just added to the anxiety and the pressure. He was my teammate and my rival and my best friend and my, uh, fuckbuddy, I guess. It was too much. We were pushing each other all the time, on the ice and off. I didn’t know how to talk to him about the bad stuff. I didn’t know how to ask him to be gentle with me. And afterwards, I thought it’d be better to have a clean break, you know? ‘Cause even though it wasn’t his fault, he was a reminder of the worst times of my life.”

Jack let out a long, low sigh before he fell silent. Maybe it was relief at finally letting out the poison from an old wound. 

Bitty had never heard Jack talk so much about Kent. For so long, the subject of Kent seemed either over and done with or something to be talked around. No wonder, if Jack associated Kent with the draft and his overdose and everything leading up to that. Bitty’s heart gave a pang for Kent. To be a talisman of such ugly things to someone he cared about through no great fault of his own—what did that feel like? 

Bitty ventured delicately, “Do you think you’d be willing to tell Kent some of that?” When Jack didn’t immediately and violently reject the notion, Bitty pushed a little further. “You did tell me once that you two owed each other some apologies.”

After a fraught pause, Jack swallowed hard and said, “Maybe. But, uh, I don’t have his number anymore.”

“Oh, he gave it to me. He said it was okay if I gave it to you, if you wanted it.”

“Okay.”

  
  
  
  


A little while later, a number saved under a cat emoji sent a message: _thanks_.

  
  


-.-.-.-

  
  


**Sarah** @imonaschooner

Oh my god! Home opener @ The Boathouse!! Hockey season is finally about to officially start. Really missed the smell of artificial ice over the long offseason. #GoSchoonersGo 

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

The best thing about watching warmups is seeing V doing his little goalie stretches to the beat of the music. ngl I’d pay just to see that

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

[Picture: A rainbow flag draped over several rows] That’s amazing!! I love my fellow Schooners fans! And Bittle’s on the roster tonight, can’t wait to see him play #YouCanPlay #GoSchoonersGo

 **Dan’s Dan** @macattac27

Girls fawning over Bittle before he even plays his first game, what a surprise. He doesn’t care about you, he’s gay. Can we focus on the actual sport?

 **Schooners Stats** @alyhope

Bittle got 2 pts in 4 preseason games, so he’s definitely one to watch out for. Schooners need new players like Bittle & Perfilyev…[1/2]

 **Schooners Stats** @alyhope

...to plug holes in forward lines. It’s a faster game nowadays. We need to keep up if we want to make it to the playoffs. #newblood [2/2]

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

T minus 6 min until puck drop!

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

Ref are you blind?!! Boucher just got boarded and he’s down on the ice now #fuckthekings

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

It’s okay, false alarm, Boucher is back up. Still though that should have been called #badcalls

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

4th line up! Ooh that’s some pretty passing. Ah that was so close! Quick is a fucking wall #Ilovegoalies #butonlyOURgoalies

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

Shit Fourier just got sent to the sin bin to serve a double minor for high sticking. Let’s hope our PK is on point tonight

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

Phew! I don’t think I breathed for 4 min. Score still 0-0. PK unit killed it #beauties #thebestD

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

Ok, intermission now. Good news: they haven’t scored on us. Bad news: we haven’t scored on them

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

I AM SCREAMING!!! BAD BOB IS HERE! THIS IS NOT A DRILL

 **Très Kitty** @heismyspecialk

[Video link: Interviewer:”So, what brings you to today’s game?” BB: “I’m here with Eric’s mom, Suzanne, to watch our boy’s first NHL game.”]

 **prairie fairie** @austindallas

Aww thats so cute that Bad Bob’s here to support his son’s boyfriend #westanalegend

 **HABS BABS** @vinceLZ1

You know you’re in the bad timeline when even Bad Bob has caved to PC culture. Remember when he used to punch fags? #bringtheoldBobback

 **prairie fairie** @austindallas

Since when? Bad Bob was never a bigot #youdon’tevengohere #fakefan

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

When will our points come home from the war? Still 0-0. It’s battle of the goalies tonight #VisforVictory #VisalsofortheBESTgoalie

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

FUCK they scored. I’m sorry I ever said anything bad about an egg #westillgottime

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

Ugh second intermission will never end. We don’t need to zamboni the ice let’s go let’s play #ourmascotiscutetho #seaotters4life

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

WOOHOO Mac just scored, with Hells and Kitty getting an apple a piece!!! Fuck yeah! #comeback #yousuckkings

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

OH MY GOD we scored again!! Goal: Reins, 1st assist: Bittle, 2nd assist: Perfilyev. Score: 2-1. Still 5 min left in the period #wegotthis #thebestD

 **Très Kitty** @heismyspecialk

Bittle’s game face is so cute. And he and Perfilyev have the cutest celly. #bestrookies

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

I have to ask my doctor if I should be worried about not breathing for several minutes at a time during games #whoneedsair #thisbitch

**Sarah** @imonaschooner

WE DID IT!! Final score: 2-1. 1st star: Reins, 2nd star: Mac, 3rd star: V #whatagame #we’rebackbaby #fucktrafficisgoingtobeterrible #worthit

**Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease

[Picture: Bittle and Perfilyev still in their gear holding a puck between them labelled “1st NHL point 10/04/17”] [Picture: Bittle in a suit standing between Suzanne and Bad Bob, all three smiling widely] Thank you to my family, team, and fans for an awesome game. You make it all worth it. #GoSchoonersGo

  
  


-.-.-.-

  
  


Bitty thought his first NHL game was an auspicious sign. But then he only got a lone point for the next six games, and in a loss no less. No goals yet, which wasn’t unexpected, but Bitty had still hoped. And then he got scratched the next three games, all W’s.

Bitty cried on the phone to Jack after that third game. The stress of not producing, the impending doom of being sent down, was getting to him. Jack tried to reassure him that he was doing well and within expectations, and that they’d see each other in Seattle soon. _Just hold on. Keep your head up_.

Three weeks before Jack and the Falcs were scheduled to roll into town, Bitty got called in to meet the GM.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on tumblr @cat-zy if you want to talk about CP canon or about my story!! I'm also on Discord if you prefer that. Please drop a comment if you can so I know what you liked and how I can improve :)
> 
> I guess hit me up too if you have any interest in hearing the cool alcohol history stuff she told Bitty (I didn't include it b/c I didn't think most readers would have much interest in so much detail not pertaining to bitty or hockey). But yes I am a font of spirit knowledge!
> 
> Also does anyone know how to format tweets (font and indentation) on AO3? That part of the chapter looks so much nicer in my google docs. (Who knew 140 characters would be so hard to stick to - had to constant go to word count to check lol)


	4. Cut the Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bitty makes some cooking videos with the boys, plays some hockey with the boys, and has some ~feelings~ with the boys. Oh, and a wild Jack appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger at the end of last chapter! It was a natural ending point. And it actually hadn't occurred to me that it was going to be a cliffhanger because I was like readers will know what that dramatic last line means (forgetting, of course, that no one else has the whole story outline except for me). Haha, yeah, I'll try not to do too many cliffhangers.
> 
> (I have so much more free time now with the pandemic, so I thought I'd be churning out chapters like crazy, yet somehow it's actually harder to write now than before. I'm hoping I'll get used to the new normal and pick the pace up, but no promises.)

“Hey y’all! It’s been awhile since I’ve made one of these, but life’s been pretty busy lately.”

Nikita walked into frame.

“Wait, I didn’t get to introduce you yet.” Bitty shooed him out of the kitchen.

_Cut._

“Hey y’all! I’m here with Nikita Perfilyev.” There was a long pause. “Nikita?”

“Oh, hi! I’m Nikita Perfilyev.”

Bitty hung his head and sighed.

_Cut._

Bitty stood side by side with Nikita. “Hey y’all. This is my liney, Nikita. And we’re here today to show you how to make chicken in twelve healthy, delicious, and easy ways.”

Nikita did a double take. “Wait, twelve?”

Bitty breathed deeply and let it out. Then, he smiled ruefully and said, “Yes, I know it sounds like a lot, but we’ll multitask so it won’t take forever.”

“What are we going to do with twelve chicken dishes?”

“I’ll just text the boys that there’s free food. They’ll swarm like locusts. Trust me, there’s no such thing as leftovers with hockey players.”

Nikita shrugged. “Fair enough.”

_Cut._

Nikita was cutting peppers and onions on one cutting board while Bitty was trimming chicken breasts on another.

“So, why chicken? I mean, I know it’s the healthiest meat, but why so many ways to cook it?”

Bitty rolled his eyes. “Jack keeps texting me to ‘eat more protein’. His favorite food is chicken tenders, but he’s happy enough to eat baked chicken the entire season.” Bitty made a face. “I need a little more variety. Figured there’d be people out there who don’t want to eat baked chicken all the time either.” 

Bitty said to the camera, “Comment down below with your favorite healthy dishes and whether you could eat it every day or not.” He turned to Nikita and asked, “What about you?”

“Well, I like fish more than chicken, but I don’t think I could eat baked salmon or fish stew every single day.”

“Oh, we could do a fish episode next! Favorite chicken dish?”

“Chicken Kiev is pretty good. And chicken noodle soup.”

“Ooh, I do love a good chicken Kiev, but since it involves stuffing cold butter in the middle and isn’t diet plan approved, we won’t be showing how to make it today. Sorry,” he said in an aside to the camera. “But we will be making chicken noodle soup! With whole wheat noodles, of course.”

Nikita started smashing garlic cloves with the flat of his knife to peel them. “Chicken noodle soup is one of the first recipes I learned how to make.” He glanced up at the camera. “So, funny thing, I actually know how to cook American food better than Russian food. I wish I had learned how to cook when I was still back home, but—” He shrugged. “I didn’t. Then, I came to the States and my foreign exchange mom had this rotating chores list and no one was exempt. At first I was annoyed to have to cook and do laundry all the time, but I was very grateful by the time I was at university.”

Bitty set the chicken aside and began to set up a breading station. “Well, knowing how to cook and do laundry puts you ahead of like ninety-nine percent of hockey players.”

Nikita grinned at Bitty. “But the real question that everyone wants to know: am I better than Zimmermann?”

Bitty laughed and swatted at Nikita. “Oh my god, you’re going to get me in trouble.”

Nikita poked Bitty mercilessly, asking all the while, “But am I? Am I? Enquiring minds want to know. Think of your loyal viewers!”

Bitty giggled helplessly while he tried to defend against this unprovoked attack. “Okay, stop, uncle, please, yes, you’re better than Jack,” he pointed a mock stern finger at Nikita, “but only at cooking! You’re equally good at laundry.”

Nikita was smug in his mercy. “Hmm, well, it’s a start.”

* * *

**25 Comments**

  


**Checkie1**

First comment! OMG we are blessed with some good content at last. Can’t wait to try the dijon mustard and rosemary chicken rice. It looks soooo good!!

  


**xxXBittysBitsXxx**

Is it just me or is our boy’s arms bigger? *heart eyes emoji* pro hockey is doing fine things for him

  


**Sasha V**

oh ho ho ho looks like zimmermann’s got some competition *wide open eyes*

  


**MrMAAMJr**

So much shade...then again, if hockey boys are anything like other jocks, they probably really are useless outside of their sport

  


**KitKattyWack**

Eat more protein hahahaha *smirking emoji* what kind of protein are you offering *eggplant* *water droplets* *tongue*

  


  


* * *

  


  
  
“It’s too early to say but I think this could be a breakout season for Poots. He’s on a serious point streak. And so are you! I only had time to watch the highlight reel from last night, but your goal was such a beauty. Like, wow, what a snipe!”

Bitty flushed at the pride in Jack’s voice. “Ah well, it was mostly the passing Nikita and Lovey did. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“First of all, that was no flukey shot. And second of all, even if it was, a goal’s a goal.”

“That is not what you said after that game against Yale during Family Weekend.”

Jack sighed in fond exasperation. “Will you ever let me live that down?”

Bitty laughed. “Nope. Never. Not even until we’re old and gray.”

“Can’t wait.” Bitty could hear the smile sweet in his voice. He could even imagine Jack’s eyes getting extra droopy with love.

The moment stretched between them like taffy until Bitty couldn’t stand the silence and said, “Hey, your shoulder okay after your Boston game? I saw the hit and I still can’t believe they didn’t call it!”

“Eh, I’m fine, Bits. Nothing the trainer couldn’t fix. Did you see the whole game?”

Bitty laughed. _Someone was fishing_. “Yeah, I saw your two goals, too. And—”

He gushed about Jack’s goals. And then, as he listened to Jack gush about his stats— _oh, and that play in the third against Colorado_ —his mind began to wander to things he didn’t want to think about. Like the fact that Jack was going to be in Seattle next week, but Bitty would be stuck in Portland the same night playing a game with the Cutters. Like the fact that the drive between Seattle and Portland was at least three hours one way. Like the fact that Jack had a morning flight the next day and Bitty had morning skate that wasn’t optional.

“—itty?”

“Oh, yes, hon? Sorry, I was thinking…”

“Thinking…?” Jack drew out leadingly.

Bitty sighed. “I just really miss you. And I was thinking about next week.”

Jack’s voice spiked with excitement. “I can’t wait, Bitty! I was looking up hotels and I think I found the perfect one—”

“What are you talking about?” Bewilderment made Bitty blunt.

“Euh, meeting after our games?” Jack sounded equally confused.

“But I’m not in Seattle anymore!” Bitty felt tears prickle at his eyes. “And Portland is so far away. I’m so sorry, Jack, I tried so hard to hold on. I’m sorry I couldn’t have stayed up for just three weeks longer.”

“No, Bitty, Bits, come on, don’t be sorry. I know you tried your best. You’re doing really well and you’re getting better every day. And come on, you’re telling me you wouldn’t have tried your hardest to visit me if I’d been sent down to New Haven?” Jack’s voice was soft with reproachful hurt.

Bitty sniffled. “You never would have been sent down.” He knew he was being difficult because the fact of the matter was, of course he’d have driven the extra hour or even longer to see Jack. But it was different now, he didn’t regularly have weekends off or nonessential classes he could skip on a lark.

Jack huffed. “Anyone can be sent down. Top prospects, even first picks, can be sent down for more development if they’re not producing or if there’s not an open spot on the roster. And even Stanley Cup winners can be sent down if they get old or injured, or have just lost their spark for whatever reason. So, please, Bitty, don’t think you’re somehow less because you’re in the minors now. I started in the show and stayed up, yes, because of skill, but also luck. You’re improving your skill and I believe luck will come your way. You’ll get a chance again.”

“Okay, Jack,” Bitty said a little wetly, “Thanks.” 

It felt good to be reminded of Jack’s unwavering faith in him. Bitty knew their hockey wasn’t anywhere near the same level, and it sometimes kept him awake at night, worrying that he wasn’t good enough for Jack. Which was crazy because he thought he’d put those insecurities to rest when he’d merely been an aimless student and hobbyist baker, standing next to his gorgeous, smart, driven, pro-hockey playing boyfriend. 

But it turned out taking the same career path as his NHL boyfriend just came with a whole new set of worries. Before, hockey had been important because it had given him a scholarship and a Haus full of friends and, well, Jack. It hadn’t mattered if Jack was so much better at hockey than him because of course he was! Jack was in the NHL and that had always been his path, even if he had taken a detour to get there. Whereas Bitty had just been playing in college with no plans of going further—being unanimously voted Captain and leading his team to win championships had been all his wildest dreams coming true.

Now though, Bitty was in the pros, too, and so, their stats could technically be compared side by side. Bitty in no way expected to be some kind of hockey prodigy like Jack, but he couldn’t help but feel like a fraud some days.

“Alright, good, so now that we’re on the same page about that, do you want to meet up after our respective games? I looked it up and Centralia is a good halfway point between Seattle and Portland. We could both drive an hour and a half and meet at a hotel there. We’d be coming in late and we’d have to leave early. But it’d be worth it to me. And I can always sleep on the plane. Are you worried about practice the next day?”

“Of course I want to meet up!” Bitty was practically indignant. “It’d be worth it to me, too. I just...I thought you’d say we should put hockey first. Like, it looks unprofessional if I show up to practice sleep deprived.”

Jack laughed. “I never thought I’d see the day where you were more serious about hockey than me.”

Bitty spluttered.

“Hockey is important.” Jack chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, what a surprise, I think hockey is important. But look, Bits, hockey isn’t the only important thing. You’re important, too. There will be a lot of times where I’ll put hockey first, and you probably will, too, but it doesn’t always have to come first. It _shouldn’t_ always come first. Besides, it’s hardly like we’re skipping sleep before a playoff game to meet up.”

Bitty rolled his eyes. Yeah, if it were the playoffs, they wouldn’t even be having this conversation.

“Okay, darling, point made. Book that hotel room in Centralia.”

Bitty was much more engaged for the rest of their conversation, bubbling with happy anticipation for next week. As the phone call wound to a close, Bitty’s feet led him back to his hotel room. With one last lingering _goodnight, I love you_ and another giggly _no, sweetpea, I love you more_ , he hung up.

Just as he was about to unlock his hotel room door, he heard a sharp, angry voice. It was Nikita speaking rapidly in what Bitty assumed was Russian. He hesitated before knocking. There was a sudden silence before rapid steps approached the door.

Nikita yanked the door open with an impatient expression, which quickly turned to surprise and then puzzlement when he saw Bitty. “You forget your key?”

“No, uh, I just wasn’t sure if I was interrupting something or not.”

Nikita sighed. “No, you’re fine. This is pointless anyway.” He held his phone back up to his ear and snapped something gunfire quick and terse at whoever was on the other end of the line before hanging up.

He tossed the phone at his bed and then tossed himself on the bed, too. The short, muffled scream into a pillow was one of pure frustration.

Bitty gingerly sat on his own bed and cautiously ventured. “You okay, hon? You want to talk about it?” And then, reminded of his learning experience with Whiskey, he added, “Or do you want me to leave you alone?”

Nikita finally gave up on suffocating himself and rolled over. He scrubbed his hands violently over his face and then sat up with a deep sigh.

Mirroring Bitty by sitting at the edge of his bed, he said, “It’s my parents. They were okay with me pursuing hockey as a career when they thought I’d be making NHL money. But now...they don’t get it. They say it’s not too late to get a job in Moscow or apply to a school here for an MBA. They think I’m wasting my time and my education. That they paid for.”

Bitty had always known he’d need a scholarship and financial aid, and maybe even some student loans, to make college a possibility. So, he didn’t feel quite the same sense of owing Samwell to his parents. But they had paid for all of his college living expenses, and before that, they’d paid for his figure skating and his hockey. So yeah, he knew what it felt like to owe his parents a life they could be proud of their son for having. One of his greatest fears had always been disappointing them. 

Bitty took a breath and put a stopper on all the half-formed thoughts he had to offer. First things first—“Do you want advice or commiseration?”

Nikita sighed. “Commiseration, I guess. I already told them all the right things. Like, the season just started, it’s ridiculous to call it quits now. And besides, I signed a three year contract, making me feel bad about it now isn’t going to help anything. And of course I’m playing my best, so—” 

Bitty interjected, “And your best is awesome, you’re really putting up points.” 

Nikita quirked a smile and said, “Thanks, you, too. So there’s a decent chance I’ll get called up before the end of my ELC.” Nikita sighed again. “But I think maybe it’s not actually about hockey. Or, well, at least not all about hockey. They probably thought I was going back to Moscow after university, at most, after grad school. And now, I’m done with school, and I’m still with my American girlfriend and still playing American hockey.” 

Bitty opened his mouth to ask what was wrong with Marissa, but then subsided. If she wasn’t willing to move to Russia and Nikita wanted to stay with her, then his parents definitely weren’t going to get their son back in Moscow anytime soon.

Nikita looked up at Bitty, his eyes asking for understanding. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful for everything they’ve done for me, or that I think they’re bad parents. I know they love me, and that’s why they want what is best for me. So, they’re worried about my future. Like future grad school admissions prospects and job prospects. And they’re _really_ worried about American pro hockey, all the fighting and concussions. At least if I go out with an injury on an NHL salary, I’ll still have some capital to invest with. Whereas in the minors, I’m just as likely to get injured, but to them, the potential costs vastly outweigh the potential benefits.”

“Well, all of that sounds very rational. And you seem to really get their perspective. Maybe if you tried telling them everything you just told me, they’ll come around to your perspective, too.”

“I already did.”

“Oh, well, maybe try again? But more calmly this time?”

“I _was_ calm.” Nikita said a little testily.

Bitty raised his eyebrows. Calm was the last thing he’d call whatever he’d heard at the tailend of that phone call.

“Okay, yes, I got mad at them. But I was calm—well, mostly calm—about the job stuff. But it just felt like they were picking at everything. Like Marissa. And—” Nikita’s eyes cut towards Bitty before shifting quickly away.

Bitty frowned. “Me? But, why—oh.”

There could really only be one thing that someone who had never met him could pick at about him. The gay thing.

“Yeah. Look, they’re not—they’re not the kind of people who—like if they met you, they wouldn’t call you slurs or refuse to shake your hand or anything like that. But it’s illegal in Russia right now. Well, gay propaganda is. But that covers pretty much anything showing being gay in a positive light. So it was illegal to show your kiss with Zimmermann after the Stanley Cup Finals.”

 _Sweet Jesus._ Bitty’s mouth dropped open in shock. He’d known it wasn’t good to be queer in Russia, but as it didn’t affect him personally, he hadn’t really looked into it. After all, the only Russian guy he’d known before Nikita had been Tater, and Tater had always been happy to see him. And even more tellingly, Tater hadn’t treated Jack any differently after he’d found out about Bitty.

Nikita grimaced and said, “Yeah. It’s not good. But whatever their personal feelings about gay people, their point—it’s not—they told me it’s not politically smart to be any friendlier to you than playing on the same team requires. Being seen as your friend could be interpreted as support for so-called gay propaganda. And that could make playing for the national team or the KHL difficult in the future. So they told me to stop taking photos and doing videos with you.”

Bitty’s heart hurt. The thought that he could be hurting someone’s future just by being their friend twisted like a strangling vine around his insides.

Some of what he was feeling must have shown on his face because Nikita switched to sitting on Bitty’s bed beside him. He threw an arm around Bitty, pulled him close, and said jokingly, “Come on, I’m not going to stop making videos with you. Who is going to help you teach people on the internet how to make chicken otherwise? And we need to keep taking pictures together so people have a size reference, how else can they tell how itty bitty you are?”

Bitty punched Nikita in the shoulder for the short joke and cracked a weak smile. “I just, if it hurts your chances to play for Russia…”

Nikita rolled his eyes. “There are a lot of great Russian players. They have plenty of reasons not to choose me, being friends with you is the least of it. Mashkov actually has played on national teams and is likely to do so in the future, and he doesn’t try to hide his friendship with Jack in the media. Doing what he does can hardly lead me wrong. I’m not ashamed of you and I won’t act like it. I told my parents it is not an honorable thing to do. And I am certainly not trading in my honor for a future I may not get or even want. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Bitty nodded reluctantly. “I just don’t want to be a wedge between you and your parents.”

Nikita laughed ruefully. “Whether I was friends with you or not, I would still fight with my parents. I’ve lived apart from them, in a country halfway across the world, for over six years. Our lives and worldviews have inevitably diverged. Most of our friction comes from the fact that I used to be much more like them and to them, it must seem like I’ve suddenly changed without explanation.” Nikita grinned ironically and said, “Western corruption, you know.”

Bitty laughed. Lord, to think of himself as any kind of corrupting influence. He turned so he could more fully hug Nikita. “I’m glad you’re my friend. Having you here makes this whole pro hockey journey feel a little less crazy.”

Nikita tucked Bitty’s head under his chin and tightened the hug. “It is the same for me.”

  


  


* * *

  
  
  


Bitty glanced down when his phone buzzed with a Twitter notification. @therealKVP had just added to their story. Bitty absently clicked to see whatever Kent was up to.

The first thing was a half-eaten cherry pie. Plastered over the image was a cherry emoji and a drooling face emoji. The second part was a short video clip of a three-legged black cat batting at a crocheted pie toy dangling off a rod.

Bitty smiled to see that his pie had been well-received.

Thumbing to his messages, he typed out, _how was the pie?_

He went back to working out, but it wasn’t long before his phone buzzed with a reply: _hated it thats why i ate half in one sitting, tryna get rid of it asap._

Bitty sent back an eye roll emoji.

He got back _haha jk it was DELICIOUS!! tysm_ _for the surprise mail how’d u kno my fave is cherry?_

_I asked Jack haha I’m glad you like it! The toy you got Kit is so cute. Kit’s so cute [cat heart eyes emoji]_

_[cat heart eyes emoji] [pie emoji] my princess was jealous, so i had to give her sum pie of her own_

Bitty sent back a string of pie emojis before he locked his phone’s screen and firmly set it aside. These reps weren’t going to do themselves.

  
  


  


* * *

  


  


“Hey, Bitty, you gonna spread the love a little?”

Bitty looked up from lacing his skates to see Lovey grinning at him. “What love?”

“How come Peril’s the only one who gets to be in your videos? Don’t you love the rest of us?”

Nikita bent over his stick to check his tape, but he couldn’t hide his smug smile from Bitty.

Their captain, Sammy, said his piece, “It’s ‘cause he doesn’t trust the rest of us in the kitchen.” He turned to Bitty with an injured air. “I’ll have you know I make a mean risotto. You saying that ain’t good enough for you?”

Lovey said, “And I make a great burger!”

Meeks chimed in, “Your burgers make well done look rare!”

“Hey!” Lovey tried to pull him down for a righteous face wash.

Georgie asked earnestly, “Do you have to be able to cook to be in a Bitty video?”

Robbie rolled his eyes. “It’s a cooking channel. Of course! Just forget about it for either one of us.”

Bitty grinned, delighted. He hadn’t realized how many of his teammates were aware of his videos, let alone wanted to guest star in them. “How about this, I’ll have everyone over, whoever wants to come. And I’ll teach Georgie and Robbie how to cook a full meal. Maybe we can make it a competition. And y’all can be judges and get a free meal out of it.”

Meeks muttered, aghast, “More like a free trip to the ER.”

Lovey shook his head and said in a resigned deadpan, “Oh no, I’ve doomed us all. Gotta go update my will.”

Robbie protested, incensed. “We’re not that bad! No one’s going to die!”

Sammy said dryly, “Kid, I’ve seen you burn water. And just last week Georgie asked if his moldy takeout was still edible. We are absolutely fucked. Bittle, why would you do this to us?”

Bitty laughed. “The whole point is I’ll teach them! I’m sure Georgie and Robbie are very coachable. It’ll be fine. And I’ll make some pie for everyone if it really goes that poorly. Well, I’ll make pie anyway. How’s that sound?”

Lovey said, “You had us at pie.”

Sammy announced, “Alright, boys, let’s hustle out there, get some pucks to the net, and really deserve that Bitty pie!”

Loud cheers answered him.

Bitty went out there and _hustled._ Maybe it was the knowledge that he’d be seeing Jack in a few short hours pumping his tires. Maybe it was puck luck. Maybe it was just his night. Because Bitty skated his heart out, got a goal and two assists for _three_ whole points. He assisted on Nikita’s goal and Nikita returned the favor. They cellied like it was the playoffs. His blood rushed in his ears like the ocean. Fuck, he was half-hard in his jock. He was on top of the world.

Bitty smiled through getting awarded second star and talking to media—though he had no idea what he said—all with a running mantra of _Jack, Jack, Jack_ in the back of his head. Nikita laughed at Bitty stripping out of his gear like he was being timed and told him to go get his man. Bitty took the fastest shower of his life and shrugged into his gameday suit while he was still a little damp. And then he was on his way. _Finally._

He checked his phone and smiled at the new message waiting for him. _On my way. ETA 12:53. Do you need the hotel info again?_ Bitty sent back that he _got it, sweetpea, thanks._ And then a row of hearts. He got back a row of hearts, too. He climbed into his old truck with a smile that wouldn’t quit.

Normally, after a game, he was either dead tired or pumped on enough adrenaline to stay up for half the night. The excitement of seeing Jack was juddering through his veins, on top of the rush of racking up so many points, so Bitty put on some jazz pop that Nursey swore by for studying in order to just _chill_ a little.

After he parked, he checked his phone again and saw that Jack had sent a room number. He grabbed the goods, beelined across the lobby, and took the elevator up, trying his damnedest not to twitch straight out of his skin. He practically raced down the halls trying to find the correct room. Before he could knock on 1501, the door swung open and Jack was on the other side.

Bitty fell into Jack’s arms and clung tight. The door swung shut behind them. God, he’d missed the warm, firm press of Jack’s body against his. The way his wide chest and long arms could entirely envelope him. The smell of his skin. The slow, steady beat of his heart. Bitty snuggled in closer and let the rest of the world fall away.

After a small eternity, Bitty pulled back to look into Jack’s eyes, droopy with fondness and love. They both leaned back in and then they were kissing. And Lord, he’d missed this, too. Jack’s lips, warm and soft and deliberate under his. He got a little lost in that slick wetness, that perfect slide.

Bitty drew back for air and then thunked his head against Jack’s collarbone. He whispered, “Is it crazy that I just want you to hold me forever? We haven’t seen each other in three months and all I want to do is lie in bed with you and look at you until we fall asleep. Silly, huh?”

Jack’s eyes crinkled. “Well, if you’re silly, I am, too. I missed you. I missed your kisses and sleeping next to you and the smell of pie baking in the kitchen.”

“Pie!” Bitty pulled back.

Jack’s brows furrowed in confusion. Bitty reluctantly let go of Jack and swung the arm laden down with a tote bag full of baked goods around so that Jack could see.

“Oh, wow, how did I miss that?”

Bitty laughed. “Well, now you know how much I missed you—I plum forgot about the pie! I baked you a maple sugar-crusted apple pie. And an experimental pumpkin custard pie. I figure it’d be appropriate since we’re between Canadian and American Thanksgiving. And I made Tater a blueberry pie. Oh, and the jam! I made jam for Marty and Thirdy. And mini pies for everyone. Well, except you and Tater because you’re already getting full-sized pies.”

“You trying to slow us down, eh? I see your dastardly plan to get us all too fat to skate.”

Bitty pointed his nose in the air. “If you don’t want the pies, I can always take them back and give them to people who are more appreciative.”

Jack pulled Bitty back in close and nuzzled against his forehead. “Haha, no, I’m plenty appreciative. Why don’t I show you...with cuddles?”

Bitty giggled. “You ridiculous man. Of course I wouldn’t give your pies away.”

Bitty handed over his precious cargo and Jack delicately placed it on the ubiquitous hotel desk. They stripped out of most of their outer layers, leaving only their boxer briefs, and slid under the hotel sheets. It wasn’t the same as snuggling together in their bed back in Providence, but Jack was here, and Bitty was here, and that was all that mattered.

Bitty rolled as close as could, so their limbs were all tangled together and their eyes were bare inches apart. There were so many things they could talk about. Their teams. Their games. Their holiday plans. Their All-Star weekend plans. Their summer plans. Their whole damn lives.

But they didn’t. They just looked into each other’s eyes. And as he swam in that lovely blue, Bitty felt some deep well of emotion surge up within him like the tides. It ebbed and flowed with different feelings coming to the forefront before submerging back into the vast ocean inside of him—love, happiness, contentment, satisfaction, comfort. And through it all, once again, _Jack, Jack, Jack._

Bitty’s blinks grew heavier and heavier staring into that endless forget-me-not hue until…

He groaned awake out of a fantastic dream. It had been so realistic. All slick wet heat and soft kisses and—holy shit! Realization yanked him the rest of the way awake real fast. It was so realistic because _it was real_.

Bitty lifted the covers and had to close his eyes at the delectable sight before him. Jack, between his thighs, practically worshipping his cock. Fuck, he was suddenly _so close._

Bitty ran a hand through Jack’s thick hair. His voice was rough with sleep and desire as he said, “Good morning, Jack.”

Jack slipped off of his dick and smiled warmly. “Good morning, bud.” He punctuated that with a little kitten lick right at Bitty’s slit.

Bitty moaned. “Ugh, you’re going to kill me with your whole morning person thing.” 

Despite his words, he petted fondly at Jack’s hair. Jack took that as tacit permission to keep going. Despite the early hour, Bitty felt luxurious as he laid back and let Jack give him the slowest and wettest blowjob ever.

“You want me to come, baby, or you want me to save it for something else?”

“No, go ahead and come.”

And so Bitty did, as easy as letting out a sigh between one breath and the next.

Bitty pulled Jack up so he could kiss his sweet boy and reach for his dick at the same time. Jack was pleasantly hard and Bitty gave him a friendly squeeze.

In between slick kisses, Bitty said, “Well, that was a _great_ morning. What do you want in return for that lovely gift?”

Jack huffed with exertion and arousal. “Could I—between—euh, your thighs?”

“Yeah, of course. Whatever you want, darling. Facing you or away?”

“Like this.” And then Jack manhandled Bitty into the position he wanted: Bitty, on his side, facing Jack, with Jack’s dick between his thighs and snugged up against his balls. Bitty’s own cock, soft and sticky and unlikely to get hard again, was pressed firmly against the ridges of Jack’s abs. It was kind of perfect.

Jack started out gently rocking, but when Bitty clutched at his ass to urge him on, he picked up the pace and really chased after his own pleasure. Heat pooled in Bitty’s gut, but his dick never got more than half-hard. It’d been years since he’d been able to get hard again immediately after coming. But just because he wasn’t going to come again, didn’t mean riding Jack’s abs while Jack rutted between his thighs wasn’t still really enjoyable.

Jack stiffened, and then Bitty felt his release all hot and sticky between his thighs. Jack buried his face into the crook of Bitty’s neck to muffle his cries as he rode out the waves of his own pleasure and worked on sucking a mighty hickey that was sure to color brilliantly in a few hours. Bitty breathed out a moan at that, thinking about how nice it’d be to see Jack’s mark on him later, like a sweet reminder of their time together.

After Jack’s breathing had evened out, Bitty asked into the comfortable silence, “What time is it?”

Jack rolled onto his back and pulled Bitty with him so that Bitty was mostly lying on top of him. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, and when he glanced back, his eyes were sad. “We’ve got maybe ten minutes before we should check out.”

Bitty closed his eyes against the tears threatening to well up and put on the brightest smile he could muster. “Ten whole minutes? Did you plan our wakeup time so we’d both have time to get off?”

Jack smiled back, though his eyes remained sad. “Of course, they say I’m a great playmaker, you know.”

Bitty laughed. “Oh, do they?” He lay his head back down on Jack’s chest and prepared to soak up their closeness for just a few minutes more.

Above Bitty’s head, Jack said, “You play the Providence Bruins next month. I checked and we’re playing at home that week. And for the three days around Christmas, I was thinking we could rent a cabin in the middle of the country, like in Wyoming or something. I could probably persuade Maman and Papa to join us. Do you think you could get your parents to come? And do you still want to go to Malibu for bye week?”

Bitty pulled himself up to stop Jack with a kiss. “Let’s worry about all of that later. Let’s just _be_ right now.”

“Sure, Bits, let’s just be together.”

It felt like a mere blink before Jack’s phone buzzed with the alarm he had set. So, with slow reluctance, they parted and got dressed. Their eyes kept meeting as they went through the familiar motions of their morning routine, and it was almost like being home in Providence except everything about the bathroom was all wrong.

Bitty stayed close to Jack like a burr as they walked down to checkout and all the way out to the parking garage. He lingered outside of his truck, trying to delay the inevitable, just to stave off leaving for a few more moments. Jack leaned in and boxed him up against the side of the truck’s main cabin and kissed him like he was trying to show Bitty his soul. Bitty kissed back with equal desperation and fervor.

He wrenched himself away with a gasp. “I won’t say goodbye. Just.” He took a breath and continued steadily, “See you in Providence. Or Wyoming. Or Malibu. Or God willing, all three.”

Jack touched his forehead to Bitty’s and said, “Yes. All three. No goodbye, just see you soon.”

It took all of his will to gently push Jack away. “Go on, get going before we’re late and both of our coaches set us to bag skates.”

Jack said mulishly, “I could use a bag skate anyway, for the two whole pies I’m eating.”

“You could always share?”

Jack’s jaw set further. “Never.”

With one last kiss, Jack turned and walked away. Bitty watched him go, and then slid into the driver’s seat as soon as he saw Jack begin to turn. If their eyes met, Bitty was sure they’d go back for one last kiss, and then they really would be late.

Bitty didn’t remember the drive back, just listened to his GPS and zoned out. He even forgot to put music on. He spent the whole time behind the wheel blinking back his tears. God, it was so damn hard. He loved hockey and the boys— _he loved Jack more_ —but what was all of that worth without Jack by his side?

Bitty arrived back at the apartment he shared with Nikita just as the sun rose past the horizon. When he walked in, Nikita was sitting at the kitchen counter drinking tea and eating toast, both with some of Bitty’s apricot jam.

Nikita looked up with a smile, which quickly turned into a frown when he saw whatever was on Bitty’s face right now. “Do you want a hug?”

Bitty nodded quickly and his voice cracked as he said, “Yes.”

He dropped his gear bag and rushed into Nikita’s open arms. He hid his face in Nikita’s collar, and all of a sudden, he couldn’t hold back his tears anymore.

“Sorry,” he croaked.

“It’s okay.” Nikita said fondly. “You can return the favor when Marissa leaves after her winter break visit.”

  
  


* * *

  


  


“Hey y’all! Today we’re going to be doing something a little different. Normally, we dish on dishes or I put up a little tutorial to try out. But today we have some special guests, Nathan McGregor and Trevor Robinson. Or as they’re better known, Georgie and Robbie!” Bitty gestured to his guests with a dazzling Vanna White impression.

Bitty had learned his lesson from last time, so Georgie and Robbie were already standing next to him. Georgie gave an endearingly awkward little wave and Robbie grimace-grinned like he was posing for a hockey profile headshot. 

“These two sweet little cinnamon rolls don’t know how to cook. So we’re here to teach them some basics today. And then we’ll have a little contest and have the rest of the guys taste the fruits of their labors.”

Georgie asked, “So, um, how basic is basic, eh?”

“Well, I learned my lesson with the frogs, my old teammates from Samwell. It took a while before I worked even one of them up to pie. Nursey and Chowder remain a bit hopeless with pie dough. Sorry, sweethearts, it’s true.” Bitty said in an aside to the camera. He turned back to the boys and said, “So I figured we’d go really basic. No chopping or sauteing or anything like that. We’re going to learn how to cook with a microwave!”

Robbie scoffed, “Come on, Bitty, we’re not that stupid. We know how to use a microwave.”

“Ah, but do you know how to cook a meal in the microwave? When I say cook, I don’t mean reheat. Or, like, microwave meals. I mean from scratch. Well, mostly from scratch.”

Georgie asked, “Wait, you can do that?”

Bitty clapped his hands together and beamed. “Yes, you can. And today we’re going to learn.” He made eye contact with the camera. “This could actually be very useful for all y’all college students out there who don’t know how to cook. And even for those who can cook, maybe you’re in a place without a proper kitchen or supplies, or you’re just feeling a lazy day!”

“When you say that the rest of the guys are gonna taste test...do you mean all of them?” Robbie asked somewhat apprehensively.

“Well, I got about half of them to agree to come, but we’ll see who actually shows up.”

Georgie and Robbie exchanged worried glances.

“Don’t worry, boys, I’ll have you whipping up a meal that’s sure to impress in no time!”

Nikita said from behind the camera. “It’s as idiot proof as Bitty could make it.” A pause. “So if you fuck it up, there’s really no hope for you.”

“Nikita!” Bitty said crossly. He turned to the boys and smiled sweetly. “You’re going to be making salmon with herb butter steamed mixed veggies. And mug cakes for dessert!”

Georgie said faintly, “That sounds really fancy.”

Robbie asked skeptically, “And all that can be made in a microwave? How good will it even taste?”

Nikita said. “So much doubt from such younglings.”

Robbie rolled his eyes and muttered imprecations against elderly college graduates.

Bitty said to the camera, “So I know some of you are thinking, fish in a microwave? Sounds rank! But honestly, if you use salmon either fresh or correctly defrosted, _and_ you add salt, pepper, garlic, ginger, and green onions, it’s actually very delicious and won’t fill your house with a terribly pervasive stinky fish smell. Of course, you won’t have the nice crust you’d get from pan searing or baking, but baby steps!”

And so Bitty began by teaching Robbie and Georgie basic microwave facts: like no metal, wattage labels are there for a reason, and stop every now and then to flip or stir for even heat distribution. As he moved on from the lecturing to the practical demonstration, they watched with the same kind of studious intensity that they had during video review. Like Bitty said, coachable. 

And then it was the boys’ turn. Hoo boy! Well, the less said about the frantic flailing that followed the better. At least everyone survived intact with all of their fingers and toes. So there was that, at least. 

Georgie and Robbie looked sweaty but mighty pleased with themselves after they’d set it all out on Bitty and Nikita’s kitchen table. Bitty checked his phone to see that Sammy had rounded up a troupe of the guys who were still willing to be guinea pigs and was ten minutes out. When Bitty informed Georgie and Robbie of this, they were back to pre-setting-table levels of panic, until Nikita distracted them with interviews like they were actually on a reality cooking TV show.

Nikita asked very seriously into a spatula, “So, Georgie, what are you most proud of accomplishing today?” He then thrust the utensil at Georgie.

Georgie hesitantly took the spatula and said into it like it was a real mic, “Uh, well, I think I learned how to cook, like, three things now? So that’s, like, um, three more than I knew before? And it’s all pretty balanced and fits in our meal plans, even the dessert, so that’s pretty cool. I’ll probably try doing this again at home.”

“Robbie, what would you say was your biggest challenge today?”

“Ummm, I guess to know when to pause the microwave to check and stir? It’s really tempting to just leave it in there for longer.”

“Bitty, explain to our viewers how the competition is going to work.”

“The food is already divided up by serving and each plate or mug has either blue or green painter’s tape stuck on the bottom. Georgie is blue and Robbie is green. Our guests won’t know about the tape, so they’ll be able to judge impartially. At the end, whoever has more plates and mugs cleared is the winner!”

Just as Bitty was wrapping up his time in the hot seat (aka their kitchen barstool), there came a loud knock at the door. Bitty opened it to let in Sammy and the five guys he had brought with him.

First thing Sammy said was, “Waller begged off last minute. I think he came to his senses and realized we’d be fucked if our starting goalie got food poisoning.”

Meeks asked indignantly, “And it’s chill if we get food poisoning? Do we bring nothing to the game?”

Sammy rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say we _were_ going to get food poisoning. I’m here, aren’t I?”

Lovey laughed. “I think we’re all here because Bitty promised pie no matter what.”

“Well, I think you boys have seriously underestimated these two fine young gentlemen here.” He gestured to the kitchen table with a flourish. “ _Et voila_. They made some nice, simple dishes for all y’all. No food poisoning, I promise.”

Paxer goggled at the spread. “Oh my god, Bitty, you’ve performed a miracle. This doesn’t look half bad. And it smells great!”

Jonesy turned to Bitty with narrowed eyes. “Admit it, B, you made all this. Or, at least, you did most of it and they ‘helped’.” He even did finger quotes, bless his heart.

Robbie angrily muttered at that accusation, while Georgie turned woeful eyes on Jonesy.

Bitty held his hands up placatingly. “No, really, they did it all. You can watch the full, uncut video if you don’t believe me. I demoed everything once, and then they did the rest. It only took a couple of reminders and one or two tries before they got it down pat. They really were marvelous students!”

He beamed at Georgie and Robbie, who in turn perked up with pride under his praise.

Sammy said, “Now, now, boys. Let’s not be ungrateful guests. Rob and George have made us a nice dinner for free. And Bitty says it’s all a-okay. So I say we thank them and dig in.”

Beers said in a muttered aside, “And there’s nothing saying we can’t spit it out if it’s bad.”

Robbie glowered at Beers, clearly having heard his doubting words. All ten of them sat down and each grabbed a plate of salmon with veg on the side and a mug cake.

Paxer was the first to offer praise. “Oh, wow, this is actually really good. Like the salmon is cooked all the way through and not dry and has good flavor! And the veggies aren’t mushy or raw either. And the cake in a mug idea is pretty cute.”

Jonesy chirped him for trying to be a food reviewer. But even he and Beers, the two most skeptical of the party, were quickly clearing their plates.

Sammy set his fork down once he was done and said to Georgie and Robbie, “Good job, boys. That was great. And good on you, Bitty, for teaching them some valuable life skills. Maybe you ought to teach the rest of the team, too, eh?”

Nikita was quick to say, “But I already know how to cook! I’ve even cooked with Bitty already.”

Meeks rolled his eyes. “Yeah, we know. That’s what started this whole thing in the first place. ‘Cause Lovey got jealous that you were so special.”

Lovey stuck his tongue with half-chewed food out at Meeks, who scrunched up his nose in disgust, before turning to Bitty and asking earnestly, “So, pie now? That was great, but I’m still hungry.”

Sammy shook his head and sighed. “Raised by wolves, the lot of you.”

Bitty smiled and hurried off to the kitchen. As he went, he called back, “Don’t worry, boys, I thought y’all might still be hungry, so I made a second dinner. And yes, Lovey, there are pies, plural, for everyone to share.”

Everybody cheered. And then they cheered harder when Bitty brought out a tray of oven-roasted sweet potatoes and steak. With a bright smile on his face, Bitty watched as the boys fell upon second dinner, and then pie, like they hadn’t just had first dinner. 

A feeling like contentment curled around his ribs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who won?
> 
> Also here's some art I made of Bitty as a Schooner! Please go give it some love on my tumblr if you like it :)  
> https://tmblr.co/Z-JJRmY5setFui00
> 
> Next Chapter: another Kitty shows up - and the song of the day is "Pour It Up" by Rihanna *wide eyes*


End file.
